Unexpected Expectancies
by K'sChoiceofAFI
Summary: But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's her biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty.
1. The Fight

**Title: **Unexpected Expectancies

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **"But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's her biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty."

**A/N 1: **This is just a place to drop Faberry pregnancy plot bunnies as they plague my mind. Although, this chapter turned out a lot wordier than I was expecting. I'll try to treat each chapter as a stand-alone so if I don't come back to the fic for some time, I won't be leaving it on a cliffhanger or something important. It takes place in the _Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me) _verse, about seven years after the ending of that fic.

**A/N 2: **Here's the thing, unpopular opinion, but I loved the whole Lucy Caboosey debacle so I put it in the fic. However, I tweaked it a bit. Let's just pretend Lucy was a blonde. ;)

**A/N 3: **As always, I'm writing and posting at late night/early morning hours, so fair warning for grammatical/spelling errors. And I think that's all I have to say. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

* * *

><p><em>The Fight<em>

Quinn narrowly misses the elevator as her heels clack threateningly across the marble floor of the seven story corporation she proudly works for. Cell phone jammed between her neck and shoulder, she tunes in and out of Rachel's ranting as she jerks her left arm chest level to take a peek at her watch. She has less than five minutes to get to her office. She glides into the crowded elevator with a bit of effort before punching her floor number in.

"_Quinn? Quinn, are you there? Lucy Quinn Berry-Fabray, answer me!"_

She grits her teeth, regretting—not for the first time—the day that Rachel and her sister ever met. They had travelled to Lima together before the wedding and as soon as they arrived, a photo album with embarrassing naked baby pictures of Quinn was placed into Rachel's hands. And another picture that Quinn could have sworn she had burned all the copies of. _You didn't tell me you were this cute and chunky as a child, Quinn_, Rachel had said with an exuberant laugh as Quinn sulked in a corner, glaring daggers at her sister. _Oh, no, no, no, Rachel. That's not Quinn,_ her sister said teasingly. _That's Lucy. _The two had hit it off and although Quinn will forever hate her sister for telling Rachel her real name, she couldn't help but be excited that they seemed to get along well.

The elevator gratefully dings open and she's out like a shot, nearly shoving another woman to the side to get pass. Her pace quickens with both annoyance and haste as she rounds the corner to her office. Once inside, she closes the door and opens her mouth.

"Rach, honey, honestly? You know how I feel about this. It's starting to become a sore subject and even more so a subject _I_ shouldn't be discussing at work and _you _shouldn't be discussing on the phone with me in between takes. I'll call you later." She hears her wife huff indignantly on the other line before Quinn quickly disconnects the call. Sighing quietly, she slumps back in her black leather, cushioned chair, head throbbing.

Rachel wants a child. A year after their marriage she had commented that she 'felt her biological clock ticking at an alarming rate'. Quinn couldn't have been happier. After years spent of not even thinking she'd get married and have a family, the thought of Rachel _wanting _them to have children together made her kind of giddy. It's just, well…Rachel already had a person in mind for who would donate sperm for her impregnation. Jesse St. James.

Quinn instantly blew up. Sure, she and Jesse had managed to bury the hatchet after he openly tried to steal Rachel from her numerous times. They had to. Rachel was working with him at the time and they ended up seeing _a lot _of each other. A mutual understanding that Rachel was off the market had to be quickly formed or Quinn would have tried her best to rip his head off. Or get Santana to do it. Whatever. They shook on it one day. He was to stop hitting on her fiancée at the time and she was to stop hating him so everyone could get along. It worked. So well in fact that after the _Tony Awards_—when Rachel lost for best actress—they all went out for drinks afterwards. _You were too young, Rachel. Honestly that was the only reason. You were going up against seasoned veterans. Give it a few more years. You'll win. _He had said all of this in a drunken slur before going off to dance with some girl and that's when Quinn began to see him in a new light.

Rachel eventually bid farewell to Jesse and _Spring Awakening_, picking up _Elphaba _in _Wicked_. But they kept in touch. Rachel would occasionally invite him over for dinner and the more time Quinn spent with him, the less she saw him as a threat. He was a friend and she liked him as a friend but him being a father to their child was a step too far. The very idea made her stomach churn.

She slumps forward in her seat, rubbing her temples in an attempt to ward off a migraine. It's Friday, and she's determined to make her last day of the week a productive one.

Except her phone rings again. And it's Rachel. Again.

Her jaw tightens but she slides the touch screen to unlock it before putting it towards her ear, saying nothing.

"_Quinn?"_

"Yeah."

"_I'm sorry. I don't want us to fight over this. I just…wish you would consider it, is all."_

She sighs quietly, all the fight gone from her with those few words. "I don't want to fight about it either, Rachel, but you know where I stand on this. I _don't _like the idea of him fathering our child."

"_Can we talk about it later?"_

Her voice sounds kind of urgent and Quinn perks up, if only a little. "Sure. I'll see you later on tonight. Talk to you lat—"

"_I love you."_

"I love you, too."

The call ends and Quinn chuckles quietly to herself, marveling at how Rachel can end an argument with a few well-placed words, and a quick 'I love you'. The sad thing is, she falls for it every time. But she supposes it's a good thing because despite how much she can carry on an argument, she'd rather not argue with Rachel.

She instantly relaxes, shoulders pushed back with confidence as she finally presses the power button on her computer to start her day.

* * *

><p>Rachel isn't demanding. Well, she is but she isn't. She just knows what she wants and Jesse St. James more or less fathering her child is one of them. She has her reasons and they're all valid ones. But sometimes she just wants Quinn to <em>trust <em>her for a change.

"Another run through in ten minutes!"

Her head whips around to the director with a curt nod. She sifts through her pocket for her phone, thankful that they were cut slack and didn't have to dress in costumes for rehearsal.

_**How'd it go? – Mercedes**_

She frowns, instantly reminded of the conversation she just had with Quinn.

_**Still a no. :( - Rachel**_

_**She has her reasons, Rach. – Mercedes**_

_**As do I! She can't shoot this down so easily! – Rachel**_

_**Have you ever tried to put yourself in her shoes? – Mercedes**_

She huffs quietly. Ninety-nine percent of all their arguments consist of her 'putting herself in Quinn's shoes' in order to resolve the situation. It's been five years and she feels if there's any argument Quinn should ever let her win it's _this _one.

_**Has she ever put herself in mine? – Rachel**_

She regrets the text as soon as she hits send. It sounds bitter and selfish and not at all Rachel Berry like.

_**I can't answer that, girlfriend. That's an argument for you and Quinn. – Mercedes**_

_**Well, we're going to talk about it again tonight. Tell you about it later. I have to go now! Bye! – Rachel**_

She frowns at her phone, placing it back in her pocket. She's twenty-eight and she wants a damn child. And sure, Quinn could get pregnant. She eventually _wants _Quinn to get pregnant because lately she's been fantasizing about taking care of Quinn while her stomach is swollen and she's running Rachel ragged with cravings that can only be found in very specific stores and instead of finding it scary or revolting, she's excited for the day that Quinn smiles tearfully at her while mouthing the words 'I'm pregnant'.

But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's _her _biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty. And to Quinn's credit—Rachel muses—she understands. That's one thing about them, no matter how opposite they seem, they understand each other completely. It's just that…they don't always agree on things completely. And the particular topic of who will father their child is one thing they absolutely do not agree on.

"Alright, everyone on their mark! We're starting in two minutes."

She pushes her own issues to the back of her mind because she's a professional and that's what professionals do. She wanders across the stage to land on her mark, choosing to sing away her troubles, if only for a little while.

* * *

><p>It isn't until seven in the evening when Quinn manages to get off work. Her cell phone buzzes as soon as she steps foot onto the busy New York sidewalk. She groans. Santana.<p>

"Hello?"

"_The fuck have you been? B and I haven't heard from you in months!"_

She sighs at the exaggeration before walking toward the parking deck. "It's been a little over a week at the most. And I've just been busy with work. No big deal." She bites her lip at her own lie. She's been avoiding Santana like the plague because of her troubles with Rachel. She wasn't ready to tell her best friend and have her weigh in on a sensitive subject with her insensitivity and crass words.

"_Yeah, that's what a cheating senator that taps his foot in the bathroom stall tells his wife," she quips, cackling madly at her own joke._

"_You _would know," Quinn fires back, already knowing she's hit a nerve.

"_What the fuck ever. Get your busy ass to the bar! Britts and I came to get our mature drinking on."_

"I can't drink tonight. Rach and I have something important to discuss and I'd rather do it sober."

"_Then come watch us drink. Duh. And bring your hobbit wife."_

"Watch your mouth about my wife. Besides, she's working." She pulls out of the parking lot and in the direction of the bar. Rachel isn't going to be done with rehearsals until another couple of hours and rather than sit home and stew about their current predicament, she's going to hang out with her two friends instead.

She's at the bar fifteen minutes later. Santana thrusts a martini in her hand while Brittany wraps her in a hug, patting her head like she's a lost and newly found golden retriever. "Quinn, we haven't seen you or Rachel in a super long time," she laments. "We've missed you guys. Where is she?"

"I know B, we missed you guys, too," she tells the taller blonde with a warm smile. "Rachel's at rehearsals. But I'm here now." She frowns down at Santana, whom couldn't be bothered to lift herself from the stool she's sitting on to greet Quinn. "I told you I wasn't drinking."

"Martinis are like, baby drinks." She slurs softly on her _s_ sounds and Quinn laughs a little.

"Baby drinks, huh?"

"Shut up."

"San, I'm gonna go dance," Brittany chirps. She downs the last contents of her glass before sauntering off.

"If a guy gets handsy point him in my direction!" Santana yells after her. She turns to Quinn. "'Sup with you?"

Quinn shrugs, now perched on Brittany's unoccupied stool. Her fingers gingerly trace the lip of the martini filled glass before Santana snatches it away, tossing the drink back. Quinn gives her a look. Santana shrugs. "You were tempting me."

She rolls her eyes, clasping her hands in front of her. Her eyes scan over the array of alcohol behind the bartender, tempted. A few years ago, hell a few weeks ago, she would have ordered something. But now—with all the baby talk floating around—it just doesn't seem right. Especially since she plans on presenting a detailed argument to Rachel later. Can't do that drunk.

A slap on the back of her head breaks her out of her thoughts. "Ouch, you bitch!" she growls before thinking better of it.

Santana frowns slightly and Quinn holds her breath. After drinking a lot of alcohol Santana tends to turn into a crier but Quinn's hoping that a few martinis hasn't done her friend completely in yet.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Quinn's shoulders slump in relief at the welcomed sneer on her friend's face. Anything is better than her crying.

"Nothing."

"Uh huh." She purses her lips. "The last time 'nothing' was wrong, you were frantically calling me two seconds later to come to the bathroom because you managed to rinse your wedding band down the sink while washing your hands."

"It loosened up on me. I couldn't predict that!" she hisses back quietly as if Rachel was in earshot.

"Tell me what's wrong or I'll tell Berry all about it."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, Quinn," she replies smugly. "I think we both know I do a lot of things."

Her lips press into a hard line, remembering her bachelorette party. Santana had gotten her three strippers. Two that entertained her and Brittany while the other one straddled Quinn for a lap dance. The dance had quickly gotten out of hand and Quinn gripped the stripper's waist to politely ask her to move. A moment later a blinding flash had gone off and Quinn's eyes had gone wide. Santana laughed drunkenly as she waved her phone back and forth, the photo of Quinn caught in a very compromising position flashing across the screen. She swears to this day that she has no idea how the picture made it to Rachel's phone via text message but Quinn thinks she did it just to give her poor wife a heart attack.

"You're still a bitch for that," she grumbles.

Santana lifts her hands in innocence. "Hey, I don't know what the fuck happened with that. I must have butt messaged her or something."

"That's not even possible."

"Sure it is. Now, tell aunty Santana what's wrong."

She runs her fingers through her hair. "Rachel wants to have a baby and—"

"Weird."

"What? Why?"

"Because I always thought you'd be the one to get knocked up. Rachel has Broadway or whatever and something about you just screams 'I'm a fifties housewife who's only job is to pop out children.' I think it's the blonde hair. And, you know, your occasional old fashioned choices in clothing."

Quinn rubs her temples. "I'm choosing to ignore everything you just said." Talking to Santana is sometimes like talking to Brittany, Quinn has to ignore about fifty percent of what they both say or her head will end up exploding.

Santana shrugs. "I'm just staying. I thought you'd be the one to carry the child."

She nods. "Well, yeah, she and I both did, too, actually. But she says her 'biological clock is ticking,'" she emphasizes with air quotes. "So, she wants to carry this child and I'll carry the next one."

"How many are you going to have? A children's band worth?"

"I don't know. Two, three."

Her hand lifts like a dead weight, rubbing Quinn's shoulder with a little more force than necessary. "Well, that's great. Really, I'm happy for you and Berry. B and I are going to be like, the best god-mothers ever. Your kid's totally gonna love us more than you."

She scoffs, with a sarcastic, "I'm sure." Her mirth sobers a moment later. She initially didn't want to talk to Santana about this. But part of her wants to get her reservations about this whole situation off her chest and another part of her is hoping Santana gets so wasted as the night continues that she won't remember their talk in the morning. "It's just that…she wants Jesse to father our child."

Her drink flies from her mouth, clear across the bar, narrowly missing the bartender. Santana clutches her stomach as she breaks into a fit of hysterics, howling loudly with laughter. Quinn sinks further into her seat with embarrassment and anger.

"Wait, wait just a—" she trails off into laughter again. "What the fu—" more laughter. She wipes at her eye. She's heard a lot of funny things in her life, but this takes the cake. "Okay, wow, I was not expecting that. Phew." She dabs at her eye again. "That was funny."

"It's not funny, Santana," Quinn instantly roars back. "My _wife _wants to have a baby by some guy that used to have a crush on her. Oh, and really, he's not just some guy, is he? He's the guy she starred with in a play for years. She's kissed him for years. He's felt her naked breasts in his hands for _years_."

"Damn, Q, chill—"

"I'm not gonna chill!" she fires back. "Does no one have a problem with this but me?"

Her chest heaves with anger, her tunnel vision of only Santana widening to notice a few curious and concerned eyes glancing in her direction. She turns her back on everyone, looking away from Santana and facing the counter top of the bar once more.

"You need to calm down, Q," Santana tells her after a moment. "I get your shit's all in a bunch because apparently your wife wants to bone her side piece, but honestly. Chill."

Her heart twists. "You think she wants to sleep with Jesse?"

Santana rolls her eyes, flagging down the bartender for another drink. This was going to be a doozie. "No. I don't think Berry wants him, but that's what you were implying."

"I wasn't—"

"You so were. I'd reevaluate that little important thing in a marriage called trust if I were you 'cos yours is lacking."

"I trust her," she says firmly. "It's him I don't trust. Besides, it's the principle of the matter. He obviously had feelings for her and okay, yeah, we're all friends now but that doesn't mean she can simply ask him to father our child."

"Then go to a sperm bank."

"That's what I'm saying! I keep telling her to do that but she insists that Jesse has to be the donor."

"Listen," Santana levels her with a look. "I'm bored. I wanted you to come here to unwind because you said you've been working a lot but your ass is about as tight as an NFL tight end right now. Go home to your wife. You're killing my buzz."

Quinn opens her mouth to protest but Santana's already off the stool, walking on shaky legs to Brittany in the middle of the dance floor. She stares after them, admiring how carefree they are, just simply enjoying each other. She wants that with Rachel, not awkward tension and fighting. Reaching into her purse, she pulls out a few bills to place on the bar despite the fact she didn't have a drink. She's out of her seat a moment later, heading for the exit.

* * *

><p>Rachel's already home. Her car is in the driveway and when Quinn unlocks and opens the door, she already feels on edge. "Rachel?"<p>

"In here, baby!"

She smiles slightly before walking through the living room to their bedroom. They had bought the house two years ago when she and Rachel had set aside enough money to take out a mortgage on a house that suited Rachel's high maintenance. Quinn had to admit she liked it, the bedroom was huge and the kitchen was spacious, with an up-to-date stove and oven. She mentally rolls her eyes, feeling like the fifties housewife Santana had called her.

"Hey," she says softly as she crosses the threshold of their bedroom.

Rachel's eyes dart to her quickly before she sits back on the bed to peel off a pair of jeans. "How was your day? I was surprised that you weren't here when I got home."

By surprised she means worried, Quinn guesses astutely. "It was okay. And I went out with Santana and Brittany. San called me when I got off work to hang out."

Rachel smiles. "How are they?"

Quinn walks further into the room, a little at ease. She quickly disposes of her jacket, working on the zipper of her skirt. "They're still the same. They miss us though."

"We should plan a double date of sorts. I miss their company as well."

She pulls on an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts before turning to Rachel. She shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, not knowing how to proceed. It's not like they haven't argued before, but this one seems bigger than arguing about which is more terrible: forgetting the anniversary of their first date, or forgetting the anniversary of their first time being intimate with one another.

"I think we should talk about this," she says calmly.

Rachel rises from the bed to rummage through her drawer for socks. "Okay. Allow me to preface by saying that I do not have any romantic feelings for Jesse."

"I think you do," Quinn says quietly. She denied it to Santana but that was simply because she didn't want to feel her friend's judgemental eyes on her. Truth be told, there was a small part of herself that she hated that was telling her that Rachel had feelings for Jesse.

Rachel pauses, unsure if she heard right. When it finally clicks into place her head spins. She turns to glower at Quinn. "Excuse me? How can you even _insinuate—_"

"I get it. He can act, sing, everything you love to do. You have common interests. Hell, you spent the better part of four years making out with him on stage while he groped your breast."

"Is this going anywhere?"

"You have a bond! There's something there!" She gestures wildly with her hands, stalking closer to Rachel. "The two of you share something that you and I don't. And that scares me," she finishes quietly.

"Quinn…"

"And adding a child into the mix will be yet another _something _that you and Jesse share that I won't."

"You'll be the mother, Quinn. You'll be just as part of our hypothetical child's life as I or Jesse. More so than Jesse because our child will be living with us, Quinn. Do you hear that? It'll be _our _child, not mine and Jesse's."

"Then pick someone else other than Jesse to father the child!" she yells exasperatedly.

"Quinn, you don't understand!" Rachel stresses.

Quinn runs her fingers through her hair in frustration. She had cut it after she graduated college in an attempt at new beginnings. She always said she liked it, Rachel thought she looked more mature, would help the business world take her even more seriously, but she never kept the cut. It had grown back over the years, gently passing her shoulders and steadily crawling towards the middle of her back once more. Rachel almost gets lost in it but the frustration in Quinn's voice brings her back to the present. "Tell me what I don't understand."

She sighs, walking over to the bed and sitting down. She pats the space beside her and is joined by a reluctant Quinn a moment later. Her eyes fall down to the blonde's hand resting against the navy blue bedspread. The brilliant golden band, shining on her ring finger. Rachel smiles a little before clasping her hand over Quinn's, stroking it softly. "I harbor no feelings for Jesse that are romantic in nature, Quinn," she says seriously, her eyes meeting hazel. "He and I have had a platonic friendship since day one and it is still the same."

"Then why do you want to have his child?"

"You make it sound much more intimate than it is."

"Asking a friend to father your children is a very intimate request."

"And if he wasn't a friend? Just a random stranger?"

"Then we wouldn't be having this discussion. Honestly, Rachel there are sperm banks for this kind of thing."

A wounded expression flickers through her eyes before Rachel puts on her best show face and if Quinn hadn't have known those chocolate eyes since she was twenty, she probably would have missed it. Her eyes narrow, trying to figure out what she could have possibly said wrong.

Rachel ducks her head a little, biting her lip. "Suppose we do go to a sperm bank, Quinn," she says quietly. "We pick a specimen that comes from possibly the healthiest, most musically gifted man they have to offer and impregnate me with it. We have a child, boy or girl, and love them with every fiber of our being. They hit puberty, learn about sex education and the fact that it is impossible for two women to procreate. Or even better, some child looks at them wish confusion, asking why they have two mothers and wondering where our child's father is. Then we get the question 'who is my father?'"

Quinn's mouth opens in realization, wanting to kick herself for how insensitive she's been this entire time.

"I –I don't want our child to ask us questions like that, Quinn. I don't want our hypothetical boy or girl to constantly wonder where one half of their heritage came from. To scour the country, possibly the world for their father, only to be heartbroken when that person isn't who they wanted and needed them to be. I want our child to have a father that they can look up to, one that will be there so when our child is old enough to ask—actually, I don't even want our child to _have _to ask. I want them to _know_ without a doubt in their mind that they have a father that loves them."

Rachel's quiet for a moment, brow furrowed and lost in her own thoughts and Quinn leans forward, wrapping her arms around her. "I'm sorry, Rach. That was really," she takes a breath, "really insensitive of me."

Rachel smiles softly, returning the embrace and burrowing her nose in Quinn's hair. She had long ago come to terms with her mother, Shelby. That doesn't mean that she'd knowingly make the same mistakes her mother did. If Rachel can help it, she never wants to put their child through what she went through as a child.

"It's just…where am I going to fit?" Quinn mumbles into her shoulder. "Jesse's the father. You're the mother."

"And _you're _the mother," Rachel hums softly into her hair. She tugs on Quinn's shoulders as she leans back until she feels the cool comforter beneath her. Quinn hovers over her slightly before flopping down next to her, resting her head on Rachel's shoulder. "Why Jesse?" Quinn grumbles and Rachel rolls her eyes at how feisty her wife still manages to be.

"Do you know of any other males in our lives?"

"Of course I do!" she exclaims, wanting to find someone else, _anyone _else other than the man that used to have an intense crush on her wife. "There's…uh, I'm sure we know—"

"No one," Rachel deadpans in a know-it-all tone of voice. "The only male in your life you were close to was Noah Puckerman and the two of you didn't keep in touch after college."

"I can call him."

"That would be awkward."

"I can call Santana. I'm sure she knows _a lot _of guys. Between her and Brittany, easily a twenty mile radius worth."

"But are they respectable and…clean?"

Quinn makes a face. She grumbles some more before settling back down on Rachel's shoulder. The whole _Jesse St. James is_ _going to knock your woman up_ is still uncomfortable for her, but seeing it from Rachel's point of view quelled most of her anxiety. Rachel doesn't seem to have any real feelings for him and the prospect of a hypothetical child is already giving Quinn butterflies, already causing her heart to ache if their child ever came to her with tear filled eyes because they met their father for the first time and he wasn't the man they were expecting. Besides, Jesse seems to be a respectable guy. Respectable enough for her child, she muses.

"I don't like this idea," she whispers.

Rachel continues to stroke her hair, placing a kiss to her forehead. "I know, baby."

She shifts onto her side until she's hovering over Rachel, eye to eye. "But I hate the idea of our child crying because they don't know their father."

Rachel nods. "I hate that idea, too."

She leans forward to place a kiss against Rachel's lips. They had been arguing about this for a week and needless to say, neither was really up for putting out. Quinn's hand snakes down to the hem of Rachel's shirt, deftly sneaking under to touch the warm expanse of her belly. She traces the defined abdominal muscles reverently. A child was going to be growing there. Not just any child, _their _child. She mentally growls because Jesse better be taking a backseat if he thinks for a second he's going to be taking care of _her _wife while she's pregnant.

Her thumb brushes over Rachel's navel and the brunette shivers a little before Quinn moves lower, stroking her womb. "If I could get you pregnant, I would," she whispers against Rachel's lips.

"I know, baby" Rachel breathes, arching in an attempt to get Quinn's fingers lower. She's pretty sure those are the hottest words Quinn's ever uttered. Her arms wrap around the blonde's shoulders, nails digging slightly in an attempt to make her desire clear. "And I would happily bear your children. But just because you can't get me pregnant doesn't mean we can't practice still."

A sinful smirk touches Quinn's lips and Rachel doesn't resist even the urge to bite it away. Quinn moans into her mouth as her hand slinks lower. She pulls back, her lips caressing Rachel's ear. "Yes," she whispers. She tugs gently on the lobe and Rachel writhes in place on the bed as Quinn dips into the waistband of her underwear, past her curls. "He can be the father."

Rachel groans as two fingers slide into her swiftly, starting a rhythm that's quickly going to finish her. "And you'll be the mother."

"And we'll be mothers," Quinn says back as she ups the pace.

"I love you," Rachel chokes out.

"You better," she growls.


	2. The Compromise

**Title: **Unexpected Expectancies

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **"But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's her biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty."

**A/N: **I appreciate all the reviews from last chapter, thank you! I should have put a warning of sorts in the first chapter but I didn't think it was a big deal at the time, so I apologize for that. However, here's the warning now. If you do not like Jesse/Jesse being the donor for the child or you for some reason feel that Faberry will be ruined in some way because of the previously stated, then this probably isn't the fic for you. There are a few characters on the show I don't particularly like either, so I respect anyone's decision to not read if any of you don't like Jesse. That being said, I'd also like to not get any more reviews about how I should write my own fic because, well…it isn't going to make me change it. I of course write as entertainment and I hope you guys like it, but at the end of the day it's just a hobby for me when boredom strikes and I have free time. I don't take it that seriously and I don't think you guys should either. It should be fun, not a chore or obligation. :)

**A/N 2: **Any grammatical mistakes are my own.

**A/N 3: **Also, I should note that the pacing is a bit faster compared to my other fics. It's done to make sure I don't leave chapters on cliff hangers or important parts just in case I have to leave this story for a little while. I try to make each chapter a stand-alone.

* * *

><p><em>The Compromise<em>

Rachel rubs her lips together nervously as Quinn plucks a pale yellow dress from her closet. "Perhaps I should accompany you on your trip to meet Jesse."

"Nope. I got it."

She swallows tightly. Much to her excitement, Quinn had agreed to allow Jesse to be the donor. She had promptly called Jesse and told him everything. Initially stunned, but wholly flattered, he had agreed. The whole plan seemed to be coming together. Quinn's only request was that she gets to talk to Jesse beforehand to set up strict rules and regulations. Rachel had agreed, at this point she can't really deny her wife anything and she has a sneaky suspicion Quinn knows that.

"Quinn?"

"I got this, Rach."

"Yes, I know. I just don't want you to get angry and yell at him."

Quinn strolls over to her, their eyes connecting briefly before she offers her back to Rachel. "Can you zip me?" she asks sweetly

Rachel huffs quietly, this trick of deflecting having been used on her plenty to times in the past. "Are you even listening—"

"Of course I'm listening to you. Now you listen to me. I'm not going to yell and scream and lose control in the middle of a coffee house. We're just going to talk."

Rachel hesitates slightly before she lifts her hands to the zipper at the base of Quinn's spine. Her gaze lingers on the curve of her wife's ass. _Quinn really does have a nice butt_, her mind concludes. But that's nothing new. "Promise?" she whispers, clutching the dress right above the enticing round flesh as she eases the zipper along Quinn's spine.

"I promise," Quinn says just as quietly. Her dress is safely secured and she spins around in Rachel's arms. Dark eyes rove over the blonde's body, taking in her appearance. "You're beautiful."

Even after all these years Quinn still blushes. Her arms wrap around delicate shoulders. "It's just a talk. I need to set some ground rules that he needs to follow because if he thinks for a second that he gets to call the shots just because it's his sperm, he's mistaken."

Rachel nods against her shoulder, her arms sliding around a slim waist. "Just be nice."

Quinn pulls away with a sly smile, walking out of the bedroom. "I don't know how."

* * *

><p>She arrives at the café five minutes earlier than expected. Being married to Rachel taught her that, <em>you're on time if you're early and you're late if you're on time, Quinn<em>. She reasons that marriage has its perks…sometimes.

"Would you like to order, ma'am?"

Her eyes sweep over to the waitress suddenly at her side. Startled, she discreetly scoots further into the booth. "Just a cup of coffee would be nice. Black. Thank you."

The waitress beams down at her, her eyes taking in as much of Quinn as she can before she saunters off. Quinn turns back to face the table. She stares down at the smooth wood, drumming her fingers softly against the table top. Her thoughts fly from Rachel, to Jesse, to the prospect of having a baby rapidly. She wanted a baby a couple months ago when Rachel had brought it up, sure. And after talking about it more and more with Rachel, she had gone from wanting one to _really _wanting one. The idea was growing on her more and more until she actually began picturing a three member family with Rachel. But that's just it, three members, not four. Jesse's great and all but she doesn't want him stepping into her family and throwing it off balance. Not to mention the fact that he might use this new found closeness with Rachel to steal her away.

"Is this seat taken?"

Quinn's head jerks up to find Jesse hovering over the unoccupied booth, indecisive as to whether he should sit down. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. "Yeah –no. You can sit there. I did invite you here to talk to you after all."

He releases a disarming smile before sitting down. "Have you had their triple express mocha?" he offers as he grabs the menu at the far end of the table. "It's to die for. One time Rachel and I—"

Her eyes flash at the mention of her wife's name. "I'm not here for small talk, Jesse. I'm here to talk about you and Rachel. And…you being our donor." She draws her hands under the table as they curl into fists, reminding herself of the promise she made Rachel to not lose her cool.

"Here's your coffee, miss." She looks up at the waitress and the woman cowers away under Quinn's cold gaze. "H-Have a nice day." She swiftly walks back down the aisle.

"Well, that was rude," Jesse admonishes from across the table. "She didn't even ask me if I wanted anything. I'll be sure to speak with her manager before we leave."

Quinn takes a luxurious sip of her coffee, stalling to gather the thoughts railroading her mind before removing the steaming cup from her lips. "Listen, I'm just going to come out and say it. I'm not one for beating around the bush."

Jesse clasps his hands together on top of the table in interest.

She takes a deep breath. Not sure she's prepared for this. It's one thing to know he has a crush on her wife, but it's another thing entirely to have him sit in front of her, look her in the eye and admit it. "You used to have feelings for Rachel," she states.

He nods.

"Explain."

He blanches. "Excuse me?"

"We never had a heart to heart about our mutual feelings for _my _wife and now we are. So, explain." She smiles tightly.

He blinks. "I simply wanted to get into her pants. And possibly dominate Broadway and orchestrate an ingenious and elaborate plan that somehow involved jazz hands to break through to Hollywood."

Quinn's jaw drops. "Weren't you in love with her?"

"If by in love with her you mean wanting to ravage her naked body all night long and probably not call the next day, then sure." He shrugs.

"You're nothing but a pig," she snarls, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if she wants to leap across it. "Stay away from Rachel."

"I don't see why you're so insecure. It's no different than Rachel having to deal with the fact that half of NYU wanted you when the two of you were in college."

"It's a big difference!" she hisses. "You and Rachel have made out and simulated _sex _on stage for years."

He shrugs again. "We're actors, professionals. There was absolutely no emotional attachment while we were doing that scene." He offers her a kind—if a little condescending—smile. "I'm a lot of things, Quinn, a professional being at the top of my list, however."

Quinn deflates, sitting back in her seat with a thud. Rachel was telling the truth. There really is nothing going on between those two besides once upon a time awkward onstage groping which, oddly enough, lead to a friendship that was entirely platonic.

"The point is, Rachel had to deal with her own insecurities when she was dating you in college, Quinn. Maybe you should deal with yours."

She nods, almost imperceptibly as Jesse flags down a waiter. "What would you like to eat?" he asks her as he noses through the menu. "My treat."

* * *

><p>"Girl, quit pacing," Mercedes calls from the stove. Rachel had rushed over to her house after Quinn left, calling Kurt on the way. As much as she trusts her wife, she really doesn't want to hear about her homicide attempt on Jesse in the news.<p>

"I can't, Mercedes. The thought of Quinn spending the rest of her life in a penitentiary for murdering Jesse in cold blood because I always want things my way is unpleasant to say the least."

"She's not going to kill him."

"You don't know her like I do. She's very jealous and possessive and can get a little over the top when she feels threatened."

She wanders from the dining room into the kitchen to help Mercedes cook in order to keep herself busy. Heading for the refrigerator, she rummages through lettuce and onion to make a salad. She reaches, or tries to, the cabinet above head to grab a bowl. Her fingers skim just inside the small compartment before Mercedes steps in beside her to get a bowl. She hands it to her and Rachel offers a grateful smile.

Grabbing a knife, she chops the lettuce apart methodically. "I'm just worried about her, is all. I want Jesse to be the donor but if she can't handle it, then maybe I should just tell her to forget about it and we'll go to a sperm bank."

"If that's what you think is best."

"But then again she said yes. Maybe I should just accept the acquiescence. It's not often I win arguments with her, you know."

"If that's what you think is best."

"Mercedes," she says exasperatedly.

She turns to her with a calm expression. "A baby is a very serious choice that's full of other very serious choices, Rachel. I'm fine with you venting and ranting to me because we all know you love an audience," she rolls her eyes, "but it stops there. I'm not your wife so I can't make these decisions with you or for you."

Her head bobs up and down with a reluctant nod. "You're right," she says quietly. "And thank you. For listening to me."

"Thanks for making the salad," she says with a smile.

A swift knock at the door breaks them both out of their tranquil silence. "That must be Kurt. "I'll get it for you." Rachel grabs the nearest towel, wiping her hands clean before walking into the living room towards the door.

* * *

><p>"Rule number one," Quinn says firmly as she scoots her empty plate away from her. "You may be the donor but Rachel and the baby will still be <em>my <em>family. And you do not get to take care of or make any decisions for my family. That's my job."

Jesse nods mutely, running a hand through his freshly jelled hair.

"Rule number two: you cannot, will not flirt with my wife. Just because you're donating sperm for her pregnancy doesn't give you the right to make passes at her as you please."

"I have a girlfriend of my own."

"That rule still stands."

"Noted."

"Rule number three," she racks her brain for any bases of their agreement that she hasn't covered, "you better have damn good genes. My child deserves nothing but the best."

He cracks a small smile. "I do. I'm a phenomenal singer, a sensational actor. Your child will have nothing but the best I have to offer."

Despite the circumstances, she smiles. Jesse called the child hers, not his. "I still don't like this idea. But I suppose you're as good a candidate as any. No criminal record," she raises an eyebrow, "that I know of."

He raises his hands. "The only crime I've ever committed was going flat for half a note while singing _Jingle Bells _at a retirement home around the holidays."

"And you don't appear to be emotionally unstable," she muses.

"Emotionally unavailable when it comes to most women, sure. Emotionally unstable, no."

She levels him with a mock serious gaze. "You sure you aren't gay?"

He laughs wholeheartedly. "While I admit that thespians of theater do enjoy to, shall we say, dabble a bit with the unknowns, I can assure you. I love women."

"Just stay away from my wife."

"Yes, yes. I know."

* * *

><p>Rachel's nerves have calmed considerably since Kurt showed up. Not necessarily <em>because <em>of Kurt. Having been left out of the loop, he griped about how he didn't even know Rachel was considering Jesse for a donor, passing brief judgement on _that _piece of information before Mercedes moved on to tell him how Quinn had agreed. He listened on, flabbergasted.

Half an hour later, the three of them were curled up on Mercedes couch, Kurt and Mercedes eating tacos, while Rachel forked through mouthfuls of salad. Quinn had called to say that lunch with Jesse was going well. It had been well over and hour now and Rachel herself was impressed that the two were able to tolerate each other without her presence as a soothing balm of sorts for this long.

"I still can't believe you're having a baby," Kurt says once a commercial signals that he can talk again without getting glared at by Rachel and Mercedes.

"While I have wanted a child for quite some time, I'm inclined to agree. It feels surreal," she says with starry eyes.

Mercedes snickers. "Honestly, I haven't seen you this excited about something since you used to talk about Broadway in college."

"Speaking of the oh, so illustrious stage," Kurt says with mock enthusiasm, "what are you going to do about Broadway? Quit?"

Rachel frowns. She hadn't given it much thought. It's not to say she hasn't thought about it at all. She just doesn't want to put too much thought into it. "Whatever happens, happens," she says sagely.

Aghast, Kurt's eyes widen. "Is this really Rachel Berry? _The _Rachel Berry? What happened to your passion? Your fire and desire?"

She blushes slightly at how his voice purposefully turns sultry. "I don't lack passion for Broadway, Kurt. But I've had a taste of it—not my fill, per se. But enough of it for now that allows me to have other passions besides Broadway. Such as a child."

Her mind flies to Quinn again, wondering where she is and what she's doing. She's been thinking about Quinn more and more lately. And she already thinks of her a lot. A little obsession with one's spouse is healthy, all the magazines say so. But lately she's been thinking of Quinn and how she wants their child to look like her wife. But with her carrying the baby and Jesse donating the sperm, it seems to be a near impossibility. Unless a miracle occurred, Jesse's genes combing with hers would not equal a blonde, hazel eyed baby. Unless…

"Mercedes, Kurt, I'm sorry to cut this girl's night short, but I must be going." She hops off the couch, walking to the door and grabbing her jacket.

"Where are you going, Rach? Is everything okay?"

She beams at her friends. "Everything is wonderful. I'll tell you guys later, but I have to get going." The door closes behind her and a small, giddy squeak vibrates in her throat as she strolls to her car.

* * *

><p>Quinn walks into the house, Rachel once again beating her home. She had stopped by Santana's house to get the hit she had put on Jesse a week prior lifted. Santana had mockingly gushed about how the blonde was finally growing up while Brittany whined about how she hadn't see Rachel in over two weeks.<p>

She walks into her room with pep in her step, greeting Rachel with a peck to the lips. "Hey, baby."

Rachel licks her lips, typing furiously at her laptop. "Hi, Quinn," she murmurs, almost shyly. "I'm glad your outing with Jesse went well."

"I guess," Quinn grumbles, unable to hide her smile. She turns her back to Rachel and the brunette deftly slides the zipper to the base of Quinn's spine, her fingers lightly grazing over her ass.

"Brittany misses you," Quinn says once she walks from the bed and over to her closet. "She was really sad when she saw me and not you today. Which is pretty messed up because she's known me longer."

Rachel giggles quietly from her spot resting against the headboard of the bed. "Jealous, Quinn?" Her gaze lifts from the computer screen to peer appreciatively at Quinn's lithe form, clad in matching black lingerie. She keeps staring until Quinn pulls on a pair of shorts and a tank top.

"Me, jealous? Never."

Rachel scoffs as the bed dips, Quinn sitting beside her. "What are you doing?" she wonders curiously as she cranes her neck to get a good look at the computer screen. Rachel quickly moves it away, suddenly embarrassed. "Researching," she offers haughtily.

Quinn makes a face. "How many sperm donor procedural tabs do you have opened up?" she questions knowingly.

"Four." She bites her lip, her eyes looking down at the smooth expanse of Quinn's legs rather than her eyes. "And one for in vitro fertilization," she mumbles.

It's suddenly silent, intensely so and Rachel risks looking at Quinn's face. It's completely expressionless. Her mouth is tightly pressed together, eyes giving nothing away. Rachel silently curses, even after all these years there are moments like this that Quinn can completely close herself off. She decides to go for a more direct approach.

"What are you thinking?" she says evenly.

Quinn's brow furrows. "Why would you –why are you looking that up?"

"I –well…" she falters. She clears her throat as Quinn's eyes bore into her own. "It's just…"

"No need to get shy now, Berry," Quinn says firmly. "You weren't shy when you asked Jesse to donate sperm for our child, you shouldn't be shy now when you're talking to me. Your wife."

"Yes, you're right but—" Her fingers fidget against the laptop before she closes the lid and slides it further down the bed. She turns to face Quinn, eyes on the comforter below them. "I just don't know how to verbalize this particular request."

Gentle fingers grasp her chin before slowly lifting her face. Quinn scoots even closer, giving Rachel no choice but to look her in the eye. Rachel gets lost, as she has so many times before. Quinn's eyes, Quinn's nose, Quinn's cheekbones, Quinn's everything. The blonde senses her distraction and clears her throat to get her attention. "You're verbose with an extensive vocabulary. Figure it out."

Rachel nods as best she can with her chin grasped tightly between Quinn's fingers. "You're beautiful," she breathes.

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"I –I want our child to look like you," she says finally. "To have your features. Your eyes. Especially your eyes."

"What?" She wants to be more articulate after scolding Rachel when the cat had her tongue but she doesn't see how she possibly can.

"You're beautiful, Quinn. So gorgeous and I want our child to take after you."

"I'm sorry, Rachel, but aren't you forgetting the part where none of my DNA is going into this baby? It's not going to look like me," she says with an edge to her voice. Her tone borders on cold and Rachel recognizes it for the hurt it is and not for the anger and hostility it's not.

"That's why I'm asking you."

"Asking me _what_?" She's two seconds away from wringing Rachel's neck if the other woman doesn't say something that starts making sense.

Rachel licks her lips nervously. "Give me your egg."

"What?" Back to inarticulate replies.

She almost laughs at how the two of them can't seem to be on the same wavelength at the moment. "You're a part of this, too. I keep telling you that and now I'm going to prove it. I want your egg in me. I want to carry the child, desperately so, but I want it to be your egg I carry. I want our baby to laugh like you, talk like you, _be _like you. A little Quinn."

Her mouth opens in shock. Her eyes adopt a faraway expression that Rachel's come to affectionately call 'Quinn's thinking face'. "You're insane," she finally whispers. "Absolutely crazy."

Rachel's lips quirk upwards. "I thought that was a part of my charm."

"It is." Quinn leans forward to kiss her breathless. "It really, really is."

* * *

><p>The appointment is set up no more than a week later. Rachel's eager to get the ball rolling and if Quinn were being honest, so is she. She had researched surrogacy and in vitro fertilization day and night to make sure it was safe for Rachel and the baby. Then, they had researched it together, butterflies in their stomachs, hearts filling with joy. Rachel didn't seem to mind that her DNA wasn't going into the baby. <em>Dark hair, dark eyes, Jesse's got it covered,<em> she jokingly told Quinn when the blonde asked if she was okay with it. Quinn admired her, as she always had when it came to her wife's occasional selfless thought processes towards varying subjects.

She sits in a nearby chair in the doctor's office reading a magazine, Rachel no more than five feet away from her on the examination table.

The doctor strolls into the room a moment later, her lab coat trailing behind her. She greets Rachel and Quinn with a disarming smile before turning to the brunette. She flips through the papers on her clipboard, brow furrowing. "Rachel, these test results indicate that your own eggs are healthy and fully functional. Granted you aren't as fertile as you were say, ten years ago. But you're still very much able to conceive a child on your own."

"Yes, that's correct," she chirps, legs swinging slightly with their inability to reach the ground. "I am still very fertile."

The doctor adopts a quizzical expression. "Yet you want your wife's eggs to be implanted inside you?"

"Correct."

"You do know that your own eggs are fully capable of—"

"Forgive me for interrupting, Dr. Steinberg. But I am fully aware that my eggs are capable of being fertilized. However, I want my wife to be equally a part of this process. And I surmised a way to include her was to use her egg instead of mine. _I _want to carry the child but I want it to be _her _egg I carry. I want our baby to look like her. Besides, she did say that she wanted to get me pregnant so this is the opportunity—"

"Rachel!" Quinn yelps, cheeks tinged red. Some things just shouldn't be repeated outside the bedroom.

The doctor's wide eyes snap to Quinn's own. She looks equally embarrassed, passing a sweeping glance over Quinn before looking back to Rachel. "I see."

"Yes. Will this be possible?"

Dr. Steinberg hesitates. "We normally don't do this unless there is something specifically wrong with your eggs that prevents you from conceiving, Rachel."

Quinn listens with rapt attention. Rachel's eyes flicker to hers briefly before looking back at the doctor. "Dr. Steinberg, please. I just want my child to look like my wife. And she's an entire year younger than I am, which, if using your logic, means she's more fertile than I am. That can inevitably help with conceiving our child. Is it so wrong to want this so badly? To want to include my wife in this intimate process?" Her lower lip trembles, eyes opening just a smidge more to give her innocent, doe eyed look that Quinn constantly falls victim to. She sees the doctor's shoulders slump and mentally congratulates her wife's acting skills.

"I…I suppose it really isn't hurting anything. When would you like to make your next appointment—"

"Two weeks from this Wednesday, please," Rachel says brightly, beaming a megawatt smile at the doctor.

"I feel I should warn you that things like in vitro fertilization take time. You may not conceive the first, second, or third time. It takes patience." Rachel nods while Quinn groans quietly. Patience isn't really her strong suit.

Rachel hops off the counter with a bounce in her step. "Come, Mrs. Berry-Fabray. We can celebrate with dinner."

Quinn rises from her seat to fall in step beside her, immensely happy. She clasps Rachel's out-stretched hand. "Steak."

"No steak!"

"Bacon."

"None of that either!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: Didn't put this at the beginning of the chapter because I wanted the surrogacy to be a ~surprise or whatever. Had to change the rules a bit to give Quinn something to smile about. Also, surrogacy is actually illegal in New York. Which I find interesting. That's why fics are better. I can alter reality. :P See you guys next time!**


	3. The Pregnancy

**Title: **Unexpected Expectancies

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **"But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's her biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty."

**A/N: **Thank you guys for your reviews! :) I really appreciate them. And all mistakes in this chapter are mine.

* * *

><p><em>The Pregnancy<em>

The thing is, Quinn knew Rachel was pregnant before Rachel even knew. But that's because the first two times didn't take, leaving Rachel with what she liked to call, healthy skepticism. When the doctor said patience was going to be a virtue, Quinn had automatically assumed she was going to be the one to lose patience first. But lo and behold, Rachel was the more impatient one. It didn't work the first time. She was so devastated—dramatically so, in Quinn's opinion, though she'd never voice it—that she sunk to the floor in the bathroom, clutching the negative pregnancy test in her right hand. And like the supporting wife she was, Quinn promptly took residence on the floor beside her. She leaned over to kiss the pout off Rachel's face, took the woman in her arms, and promised that although she didn't know when, the pregnancy _would_ happen or she'd find a way to blame Jesse for it. Rachel had released a strained laugh and kissed Quinn graciously.

The second time wasn't the charm. Rachel wasn't amused and banned all pregnancy tests from the house. Quinn's eyebrows were to her hairline as she listened to Rachel rant about questioning the legitimacy of the doctor, even questioning Jesse's sperm. She had snickered until Rachel had turned her eyes on her. She opened her mouth to ask a question but a hissed, _don't you dare question my eggs_, shut her right back up.

It was the third time around and instead of having expectations, Rachel simply went with the flow, as odd as that sounded. She didn't want to get her hopes up only to be let down again. Whether or not she was pregnant, she didn't care. Well, she did care but had to tell herself she didn't so that she and Quinn could maintain their sanity.

Dark eyes regain focus as Rachel finishes packing her lunch for when she and Quinn go to the park. She had sworn that she wasn't taking another pregnancy test about a month ago, preferring to find out a more natural way whether or not she was pregnant.

"Sure you want to do that, Rach?" Quinn asks as she, too, navigates the spacious kitchen to prepare her lunch for the day. Rachel had broached the subject again so Quinn figured now is a good a time as any to wiggle her way in to persuade her wife a little.

"More than sure. Not only do pregnancy tests err a greater percentage than the packaging and commercial advertisements inform the general and occasionally gullible public, but my menstrual cycle is more than reliable."

"Well, you can't really take the test the day after the procedure and expect to get an entirely accurate result."

Rachel shoots her a mild glare before continuing. "I simply prefer to rely on my very reliable menstruation cycle, thank you very much."

"And when is your next menstruation?"

"A week from now."

"And you've never been late or early for a period before? Does your menstrual cycle not 'err' like a pregnancy test does?" she goads.

"I'm not dignifying that with a response," is the proud reply.

Quinn bites her lip to keep her smile at bay. Really, she shouldn't be poking fun at her wife, especially when it comes to a topic of such importance to her—and inevitably, them—especially when she has an inkling that Rachel is already pregnant and moody but she never could help herself. They had gone a couple weeks ago to implant Quinn's egg again and so far it was simply a waiting game. Subtle signs were starting to pop up here and there to suggest pregnancy but it's kind of too early to tell without a test and Rachel's so hell bent on keeping pregnancy tests out of the house that there's no way of knowing for sure if she's pregnant short of going right back to the doctor. "So you think your menstrual cycle is more accurate than a ninety-nine percent accurate pregnancy test?"

"Quinn…"

"I'm just saying—"

"Quinn!"

"Okay, okay!" she laughs, hands up in mock surrender. She stuffs her freshly made BLT sandwich into her lunch bag along with an apple and a can of soda. "Well, I'm just glad you've bounced back from how you were a month ago when the test was negative."

Rachel nods with a small smile. She crosses the kitchen to where Quinn is to stand beside her. "I have an amazing wife that keeps me motivated to have her child." She momentarily gets distracted by the scent of Quinn's sandwich, noticing that she can tolerate it more than usual and it smells—dare she think it, _good_.

"I like it when you say it's my child," she say, intense eyes boring into Rachel.

Rachel's face scrunches up. "That's another thing I've been meaning to talk to you about. Quinn, you can't call our hypothetical, soon-to-be-real, child an 'it.' You'll give her or him a complex before they're even born."

Quinn arches an eyebrow with incredulity. "Are you suggesting I use gender neutral pronouns like 'they' or 'them' for months until we know what it—" she swallows at Rachel's glare "—_he_ or _she_ is?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting, Quinn. Our child isn't a dog or any other kind of animal. He or she will be a person and deserves to be called something other than an it."

"But he or she _will_ be an it until it's developed enough to actually have sexual organs and a gender," she challenges.

Rachel's face colors with annoyance at the return of Quinn's eyebrow lift, this time in victory. She growls lowly before literally stomping out of the kitchen. She hears Quinn's loud laugh mock her as the blonde follows hotly on her trails. A pale hand grips her forearm and Rachel turns around, arms crossed tightly just under her breasts. Quinn's gaze lowers against her own accord to the tempting mounds of flesh, pushed higher with her wife's indignantly crossed arms. Her gaze sweeps across Rachel's face, annoyance clearly flashing across her eyes. Slim arms wrap around Rachel's waist and before she can think better of it, she's in Quinn's tight hold. "You are so hot when you're angry," Quinn breathes into the lessening space between them. "And so fuckable."

Rachel leans away. "I'm serious, Quinn."

Quinn recoils imperceptibly at the seriousness of Rachel's tone. She stares down at the other woman with a glint in her eye. "We'll just have to agree to disagree."

"Why would we have to agree to disagree? Why can't you just yield to this one request?"

"Because there's always a 'request' from you that I have to yield to. Especially lately. This isn't a big deal."

"Then why can't you just—"

"Submit to you?" A pleasant shiver rolls down Rachel's spine both at the blonde's smoky tone of voice and the implication behind her words.

"Yes," she says quietly.

Quinn smirks down at Rachel, watching as a pink tongue darts out to moisten her lips. She pries tan arms apart to lean in even further into Rachel's personal space. Her lips hover just out of reach. Rachel's lips part to release a shuddering breath as Quinn scoots closer still. Their lips graze the barest hint. "Quinn Fabray submits to no one." Rachel moans unconsciously. A lingering kiss is placed on the corner of her mouth before Quinn pulls back completely to walk back to the kitchen. Her hips sway with each step and Rachel can feel her cheeks flushing.

"That stupid 'teasing' power motto was years ago, Quinn!" She yells hoarsely, firmly rooted to the ground as she tries to gather her bearings.

Quinn immerges a moment later with Rachel's lunch and it's promptly snatched from her hand. "Aww, baby, don't be angry," she coos in mock concern as Rachel storms away to the door.

"I'll see you in the car," she replies snidely as she reaches the door. "Maybe while we're at the park I'll find someone else that isn't so mean." It's meant to be a joke but Quinn still falters in her steps as she meets Rachel at the door as well.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Rachel says quietly.

Quinn clears her throat. "Yeah, I know. It's cool."

"No, really, I wasn't implying—"

"You were," she says with an attempt at a smile. "But it's okay. We joke like that all the time. It's only a little awkward now because of the whole Jesse thing, but it's cool." Rachel continues to look skeptical and guilty, her lower lip jutting out and Quinn leans forward to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "It's okay, honestly."

She quickly brushes pass before Rachel can say anything, walking to her car. Rachel closes and locks the door before she follows. She berates herself for making the joke at what is still a sensitive time for the blonde. But all in all, Quinn seems to be doing okay, if only a little uncomfortable still, but Rachel reasons that's to be expected.

"You coming or not, Rach?" She looks up to see the blonde, one leg in the car, the other rooted firmly on the ground, peering at Rachel with curiosity. Rachel nods with a smile as she swiftly walks around to the other side of the car.

* * *

><p>"'Bout fucking time the two of you got here."<p>

"Hello to you, too, Santana," Rachel replies curtly. She and Quinn approach the large blanket Santana and Brittany are laying on, kneeling to sit with her friends.

"Rachel, I totally thought I'd never see you again!" Brittany bounces over to Rachel before sweeping her into a bone crushing hug. Quinn's eyes widen, worried that Brittany could possibly smother the extremely tiny, very much unborn, more like a cluster of cells than an actual fetus, baby that she's pretty sure Rachel's currently pregnant with. "Hey, B, don't I get a hug?"

"In a minute, Q. I haven't seen Rachel in forever." Rachel tosses a playfully smug look over Brittany's shoulder and Quinn rolls her eyes, scooting to Santana, deciding to chat up her best friend.

"Hands above the waist, Britts," Santana calls softly and Quinn's head whips around just in time to see Rachel direct Brittany's hands to a safer location. Quinn shakes her head. "The two of you are just incorrigible."

Santana shrugs. "We know hot when we see it. By the way, I'm enjoying that barely there shirt you got goin' on today, Berry."

"Thank you, Santana. I approve of your outfit as well."

"Try to keep it in your pants, Rach," Quinn deadpans as she watches the devious smile curl at the corner of Rachel's lips. The same lazy smile is tossed in her direction and it's met with a mild glare. Rachel's smile widens.

"C'mon, Rach! There are turtles and ducks by the pond!" Helpless to Brittany's innocent charm, Rachel trails behind the tall blonde as the pair walk over to the edge of the pond. Quinn watches carefully, waiting until they're out of earshot before turning to Santana.

"I think Rachel's pregnant," she blurts out because she's been dying to tell _someone_ and Santana is the only person besides Rachel and Brittany that she's really close to. She really needs more friends.

However, Santana merely shrugs. "Not surprising."

To say her response is underwhelming to Quinn is an understatement. "What do you mean?"

"I eye-fucked her hard when the two of you walked over. Thought I saw her ovaries for a second. Not surprising I knocked her up, I'm good."

"Okay, first of all," she points a threatening finger in Santana's face, "stop looking at my wife like that. She's not a piece of meat!"

"But she's a hot piece of ass."

"Santana, I'm being serious."

"So, she's pregnant. Does she know?"

Quinn sighs, lying back against the blanket. She tilts her head to the left to watch Rachel and Brittany, sitting on the grass talking. "No," she murmurs. "I don't know how to make her realize she is either."

Santana follows her view until her eyes land on Brittany. She crosses her legs to lie back, resting against her elbows. "Get her to take a test."

"She's anti-pregnancy tests because she can't handle the 'bout of depression she spirals into every time they turn up negative,'" Quinn says, using air quotes around Rachel's words.

"Damn, Q, you sure know how to pick 'em."

"Shut up. She's cute."

"Whipped, bitch."

"Well coming from the original whipped bitch, I find that quite funny. Besides, I'm so not whipped."

"You so are."

"I'm not," she growls.

Santana grins cheekily. "Are too."

"Am _no_—"

"Quinn?"

Her eyes zero in on Rachel again as Brittany carries her back to the blanket. "What happened?" she rushes out, rising to her knees to swarm Rachel as Brittany places her on the blanket. Rachel's eyes open just a crack to see worry swimming in hazel orbs. "Baby?" she rasps.

"Right here, baby." Quinn reaches out to place her hand gently against Rachel's forehead. "You look awful. What's wrong?"

Santana makes a hissing sound off to the side that sounds suspiciously like a whip but Quinn ignores it, taking victory in Brittany's silent scolding. "You don't feel warm," Quinn murmurs distractedly as her eyes roam over Rachel's body for signs of anything being wrong. "Rachel, now's the time for you to speak and ramble, honey."

"I'm fine," she says softly, grasping the hand on her head. "My stomach hurts, is all. And there was this putrid smell by the pond."

"Smell?"

"This super hot girl walked by and she spelled like peaches body cream," Brittany supplies from behind the two.

"That's it!" Rachel shoots up, smacking a hand to her forehead. "I have a headache," she whimpers. "But yes. Peaches. It was awful, horrid—who even wears that –that odor on their body? It was seeping from what must have been enormous pores." She shudders in disgust for good measure.

Quinn looks up to lock eyes with Santana. She receives a small nod, Santana believes her. Or at least believes that all of this is pointing in the same direction Quinn does.

She leans over to put a comforting hand on Rachel's shoulder. "How about we go home?"

"But we just got here," she laments with a pout.

"Yeah, but I don't want smelly girl or someone else for that matter to come back around here and send your senses into overdrive."

Rachel waves it off. "I'm sure it was just a coincidence. My senses aren't in overdrive, Quinn. I think she simply applied too much body spray or lotion recently. No big deal."

Quinn bites her lip, unsure of what to do next. Rachel has to realize that she's pregnant or at least be under enough suspicion to take a test because the uncertainty is driving Quinn insane. Rachel pushes her back to lie on the blanket before she curls into her side, draping a leg over the blonde.

"What the hell, Berry?" Santana calls from the other side of the blanket. "No getting your freak on out here, I don't care how hot you look today. You and Quinn having sex isn't something I need to see."

"Shut up, San," Quinn hisses. Her fingers sift softly in Rachel's hair as the brunette sighs contently, snuggling further into her. Rachel's right hand slides under Quinn's shirt to rest lightly against her ribs. Her lips press against the blonde's neck, a stream of warm air bursting against the sensitive skin.

"Yeah, San. You do wanna watch them have sex; we've talked about this before." Brittany turns to the two of them. "It'd be so hot."

Rachel barely hums a response as Quinn squirms under Brittany's scrutiny, Santana's glare, and the even stream of breathing against her neck. "Uh, Britt, I think we've talked about this already," Quinn says as nicely as she possibly can. "Friends don't watch other friends have sex. Nor do they ask said friends to join in a, uh…foresome."

She looks sad and Quinn would almost take it back if it wasn't for the fact that she doesn't share and wouldn't feel comfortable with having the pair watch.

"Well, like I said. I wouldn't wanna watch you two in the first place."

She scoffs lightly at Santana. "Whatever, Lopez." Her eyes drift down to how still Rachel's body's become, how even her breathing has become. She runs her fingers down tan arms, pressing a kiss against the top of Rachel's head. "She's asleep," she whispers.

"That's odd. Normally that hobbit is a big ball of elven energy."

"It's true. Doesn't she always wake up extra early in the morning just to exercise? I bet she's got great stamina. Y'know, in bed."

"We got it, B." Santana folds her arms across her chest. Brittany smiles apologetically before leaning over and kissing away her jealousy.

Quinn continues to absentmindedly cradle Rachel to her, mind drifting back over the last several days. She hadn't given it much thought, but Rachel hadn't been waking up early for her morning routine on the elliptical. She can't pinpoint the exact day that it stopped, but she figures it's been over a week. They'd wake up at the same time and even then, Rachel would complain that she was tired.

"I'd love to sit here and watch you two love birds further turn what was supposed to be a fun day into even more of a bore, but Brittany and I actually have lives to live."

"Guess we should get out of here." She lightly shakes the sleeping woman in her arms. "Rach. Rach, baby, wake up. Time to go."

"Where are we?" she asks groggily. Quinn bites her lip to keep from smiling.

"We're still at the park. You fell asleep—"

"I fell asleep?" She's up like a shot, out of Quinn's arms and scrambling to stand. "Rachel Berry does not fall asleep in a park when fun is meant to be had."

Quinn stands up, brushing off any blades of grass that may have clung to her. "Well, you did. And Santana's pretty bitchy about it. So how about we all just raincheck this little day."

"Better reschedule quick. Rachel's gonna be big as a house soon," she snickers quietly. Brittany and Rachel look on in confusion as Quinn's eyes widen. "What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel asks.

"How's your stomach?" Quinn blurts out, tossing Santana a murderous glare. If anyone gets to tell Rachel she's pregnant it's going to be her! She just has to figure out how.

Rachel cringes, remembering the horrible smell of peaches and how it assaulted her olfactory. She can almost still smell it. Her hands unconsciously settle against her stomach as her face scrunches up. "Awful," is all she says.

"Maybe you have to go number two?" Brittany asks curiously.

Her head tilts to the side. "I highly doubt that seeing as the feeling in my stomach is not one borne of constipation, but more so a feeling of intense nausea—"

"_Boring_."

Rachel shoots Santana a glare. "I wasn't talking to you."

"Oh, yeah? Well I'm talking to you midget. And I suggest—"

"I suggest we all leave. We're starting to attract an audience. And I want to get out of here just in case any of them are theatre junkies and recognize Rachel."

"Fans?" Momentarily forgetting about Santana, her eyes scan the park for anyone that could possibly be looking at her with any form of adoration.

Quinn rolls her eyes, grabbing Rachel's hand and giving it a firm tug. "Let's go, Superstar."

"But, _Q_," she whines and a delicious shiver slides down Quinn's spine. It's a new thing. Well, not new, new. But fairly new. Rachel had started calling Quinn, Q. But only in the bedroom, only when she was rendered helpless and couldn't string together enough letters in her pleasure addled mind to actually utter the blonde's whole name, possibly didn't even _remember_ her whole name, just that letter. That all important letter than she'd speak into existence with such intimate need in a way that no other person that has ever called Quinn, Q has. Rachel had taken the already personal nickname and turned it into something that was completely theirs, hers.

Hazel eyes turn towards her and Rachel gulps at how dark they've suddenly become. Quinn takes a steadying breath. "We're going home," she says lowly, leaving no room for argument. Rachel nods, not sure what's at home but if Quinn keeps speaking to her in that tone of voice she's likely to follow the blonde anywhere.

Santana and Brittany watch the interaction with matching smirks, leaving the two to walk to their own car. "Maybe Berry's the one that's whipped. Whatever. You both are still gross. Later, losers."

"Bye, Quinn! Bye, Rachel! And Rachel, don't stay gone for too long, okay?"

She smiles. "I promise, Brittany." She falls into step beside Quinn as the blonde practically drags her to the car. Her left hand, the one not squeezed in Quinn's death grip, curls over her stomach as she leans forward. "Quinn," she whispers. "Quinn, I think—"

Quinn turns around just as Rachel yanks her hand from the blonde's grasp. The brunette staggers forward, dry heaving until vomit spews from her mouth. Quinn's mouth drops open, momentarily stunned before she's in action. She leans over Rachel, one hand soothingly rubbing her back while the other gathers her hair and pulls it back. "It's okay, baby," she soothes. "Let it out." She'll be the first to admit that she kind of sucks at comforting people. One of the best things about Rachel is her impeccable immune system. She hardly ever gets sick, but with a possible pregnancy on their hands, morning sickness will be a constant for a while and Quinn reasons she'll have to improve her bedside manner. "Is there anything you need? Anything I can do right now?" Quinn asks desperately.

"Home," she whimpers.

She's quickly in action. Gently pulling Rachel to stand upright before unlocking the car. She grabs Rachel's arm, leading her to her side of the car, opening the door and carefully depositing her inside. She runs to her side of the car and hops in quickly, putting the car in drive and zooming off. Quinn watches from the corner of her eye as Rachel cradles her stomach all the way home. She has a sneaky suspicion her wife already knows.

* * *

><p>Rachel quickly shimmies out of her skirt as she enters the room, choosing to forego a pair of shorts as she lifts her blouse from her head, reclining on the bed in a black camisole and red panties. Her head hits the pillow with a thud. Nothing could have prepared her for the churning in her stomach after the picnic. "Baby," she groans.<p>

Quinn walks into the room, instantly by her side. "I know, baby." She hands the smaller woman a cup of orange juice, reluctant to give her any form of pain medication until they've at least confirmed or denied her pregnancy and spoken with a doctor.

Rachel wipes her clammy forehead, accepting the cold glass of juice with a gracious smile. She quickly downs the entire glass in mere gulps, sighing at the instant, if only temporary relief it brings. She hands the cup back to Quinn, reclining on the bed and curling on her side. Quinn watches her wife with fondness dancing around her eyes. Moments like this make Rachel—somebody so larger than life—seem so small and Quinn relishes these moments. Moments when she's the only one that can see the brunette curled tightly on their bed, allowing her weariness to show instead of putting on a well-practiced show face.

"Quinn," she mumbles.

"Hmm?"

"Hold me."

Scratch that. _These_ are the moments she loves. Moments when she strips her clothes until she's left in her lingerie, moments when her bare arms curl protectively around Rachel, the intimacy of her thigh slipping between Rachel's legs like lock and key as she buries her face in strawberry scented hair. These are the moments she lives for and if she allows her petty, jealous side to come into play, moments Jesse will never have.

"You smell good," she murmurs. Rachel's hand clasps around Quinn's on her rib. She unmistakably moves both their hands further south, resting them lightly on her womb. Her breath shudders as it escapes past her lips and this time Quinn knows. They both know. They both know that each other knows. It's just a matter of who's going to break the ice. Patterns are drawn aimlessly on the back of Quinn's hand as Rachel's mind goes into overdrive.

"Rachel."

"Yes?"

"I think you're pregnant."

The hand on top of hers gives a tight squeeze. Rachel holds her breath. There are too many thoughts rushing through her head as loudly as a river current splashing against rocks. It's hard to listen to Quinn and her own thoughts at the same time. What if she isn't pregnant? What if she just wants it so much that her body is creating all of the symptoms? Would Quinn be upset? Would she even want to try a fourth time if she isn't pregnant right now?

She curls further in on herself. "What if I'm not?"

Quinn runs her thumb lovingly over the flat, defined plain of Rachel's stomach. Words can't describe how much she wants Rachel to be pregnant. She doesn't want to get both of their hopes up but, what else could it be? She wasn't exercising anymore which could be caused by tiredness. She was oddly enough drawn to Quinn's sandwich which contained bacon, something Rachel swore she hated. She didn't like the woman's peach scent today at the park, which she over exaggerated how strong it smelled because her senses are in overdrive. And she complained of nausea before throwing up in the park. To Quinn, all of that spelled pregnancy.

"I can go to the store and pick up a few pregnancy tests." She tries to keep the excited desperation out of her voice.

Rachel smiles despite herself. She can't help it. All of the signs really do point to only one thing. It was happening. _She_ was happening. The baby, _hers_ and _Quinn's_ baby was happening. Right now. This very second. He or she is growing, millions of cells splitting and replicating every second. Every breath she takes is another moment of their child becoming whole. She knows, they both know. It could be false, but really, what are the odds? She didn't have these symptoms the first two times they tried to conceive. She didn't want to believe, but third time really is the charm.

"If it's all the same to you, Quinn, I just want to lie here with you holding me." The smile in her voice is unmistakable. Quinn's grip tightens around Rachel as she scoots impossibly closer. _Her_ wife. _Her_ baby. She's the protector of both of them.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, Rach?"

Rachel's smile threatens to split her face as a single tear slides down her face. "We're pregnant."

Quinn nods against her shoulder and suddenly she can't resist anymore. She slides back, pulling on Rachel until she gets the hint and turns over. Rachel smiles softly as she scoots closer to the blonde, resting her forehead against her wife's. Quinn leans in for a thorough kiss before pulling back to rest against Rachel once more. Her hand lifts shyly to press against Rachel's stomach. Rachel inhales deeply, leaning forward again to kiss Quinn. Their lips brush softly, lovingly. Quinn's hand slides Rachel's camisole up to touch the warm skin of her womb as Rachel's tongue slides across her lower lip. A warm, tan body presses tightly against her side and Quinn gets the hint, leaning back. The kiss breaks and Rachel crawls over to lean over Quinn. "I am so in love with you," she whispers fervently.

She reaches up to wipe the tears from deep brown eyes, cupping her cheeks in her hand. "I love you, Rachel. I love you and our baby and I'm going to take such good care of you both."

Those words only make Rachel cry harder and Quinn leans up to seal her promise with a kiss, tasting salty tears on her tongue. She pulls Rachel tighter against her, one hand stroking tears from her cheek while the other wraps around her waist. And then—

Rachel's gone.

She's scrambling off the blonde and into the bathroom. More dry heaving reaches Quinn's ears and she winces at the sound, having half a mind to just stay where she is until Rachel's finished.

"No, Quinn," she scolds herself, getting off the bed to put a shirt on. "Stop being a selfish, squeamish ass and take care of your wife."

"Quinn, where are you?" Rachel whimpers from the bathroom.

She hot foots it out of the bedroom. "I'm coming, baby!"


	4. The Ultrasound

**Title: **Unexpected Expectancies

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **"But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's her biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty."

**A/N: **I churned this out as quickly as I could so I'm sure it's littered with typos/grammatical errors, etc. Apologies. :P

* * *

><p><em>The Ultrasound<em>

Rachel brushes her teeth for the third in the last hour. She's up getting ready for work and every time she's done with one morning ritual, she's running to her new favorite place in the house: the toilet.

"You okay in there?" Quinn asks as she walks past the bathroom, straightening her black pencil skirt as she fastens the last button on her shirt. Rachel's vomiting is almost routine now. It had been startling the first several times it happened, but after weeks of Rachel running to the bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach during breakfast, lunch, dinner, sex, and everything in between, Quinn had gotten used to it.

"Your child is a monster," she hears groaned back at her. Quinn giggles quietly; immensely proud of the rapidly forming baby taking shape in Rachel's womb.

"Now, now. Weren't you the one saying calling it and 'it' would give it a complex? I can only imagine the devastating side effects calling our child a monster can have once that callous word reaches the cluster of cells that haven't even formed an ear yet."

"You're mocking me."

She smirks, walking down the stairs. "What gave me away?" She quickly makes it to the kitchen. It feels surreal, really. If someone were to tell her seven years ago that she'd not only get married, but start a family with the love of her life, she probably would have told them to fuck off. But now it's happening. As sure as the sound of Rachel gagging, probably hunched over the toilet, it's happening.

She pads softly into the kitchen, bare, dainty feet gliding across the smooth tiled floor to stop in front of the refrigerator. She opens and glances inside, grabbing a carton of orange juice and making a mental note to pick up more later. She pours the tallest glass she can manage with the little juice left, turning around to see Rachel standing at the threshold of the kitchen. The hair she had spent ten minutes brushing to perfection now hung around her face, unkempt. Her make-up was slightly smeared and instead of pained she just looks tired. But she looks happy. She even smiles, eyes softening at the cold cup of juice in Quinn's hand. "I have such a caring wife," she gushes as she bounces, literally bounces over to the grinning blonde.

The cup is plucked from pale fingers and downed completely mere seconds later. She licks her lips, Quinn's eyes track the movement, and she walks over to the breakfast nook to sit. "I have a show tonight," she says, beaming.

"Yeah, I know." Quinn smiles proudly, rummaging through their cabinets for pots and pans. Even after all these years, seeing Rachel on stage, hearing the other woman talk about her passion fills her with pride. "I'll be there. Sure you're up for it?"

"I plan on continuing with the play until I absolutely have to stop due to my protruding belly. I'm a professional, Quinn."

She rolls her eyes at how much Rachel sounds like Jesse. Then she shakes her head, not wanting to think of Jesse _at all_, let alone thinking about how similar he and Rachel are. "So I've heard," she mutters.

Rachel grins. "Plus, I think my newfound baby hormones have given me an edge. Not that Rachel Berry-Fabray needs an edge, just that anything that can help a performance should be used to help a performance. And the hormones definitely help reinforce my ability to cry on command."

"I don't think I appreciate you using our child as acting steroids."

"I'm not using our child! Our child is merely providing his or her wonderful mother with aid—albeit, not much needed aid."

"Right, because you're awesome."

"Precisely!"

Quinn laughs distractedly at her wife's antics as she ventures to the freezer for sausages. Her eyes catch the clock on top of the stove. She's cutting it close. Work is in forty minutes and with the hellish morning work traffic she always runs into, it'll take twenty minutes to make it on time. She quickens her steps as she walks back to the stove and puts two sausages in the pan, grabbing two eggs and tossing them in next. No time to cook them separately.

"That smells good," Rachel murmurs, her nose almost propelling her forward to land beside Quinn.

"The sausage?"

"The eggs."

"Either way you're in trouble, you vegan."

She whimpers, head lolling to the side and away from the tempting food. So far she has no food aversions, except peaches. Well, she doesn't really know if peaches will give her body hell but after becoming queasy at the smell of another woman wearing peach scented body lotion, she doesn't want to take any chances. Hardly any aversions, but things are starting to smell good. Things like bacon, and sausage, and eggs and everything a good little vegan like her has no business indulging in. And it's not like Quinn even bothers to help her keep up her good vegan code.

"I can share."

"No thank you."

Quinn's lips tick upwards into a cruel smile. "You sure? I don't mind."

"No."

"I'll just cut you a piece and—"

"Quinn," she whines. She licks her lips as her eyes fall to the sausage and eggs again, not sure which she wants to devour first.

"It'll be our little secret," Quinn whispers. Rachel ignores the way the hair on the back of her neck stands on end and takes a few steps back. "You're always tempting me."

Quinn's shoulders shake with silent laughter as Rachel walks out of the kitchen. Her stomach isn't hurting anymore, the morning sickness over. Possibly for the whole day, or possibly for just now. Some days it comes and goes. But it never goes beyond three in the afternoon and for that, Rachel is thankful. Can't run off stage during a show every time her stomach starts to lurch.

She walks back up the stairs to their bedroom, plops in front of her vanity, and brushes the stray strands of her hair back into place. She smiles into her mirror, counting off each brush stroke from one, Marcia Brady style. Her hair was perfect, and Rachel Berry-Fabray knew that if anyone knew how to properly brush their hair until it shimmered and shined brighter than the sun, it was Marcia Brady. Or Quinn Berry-Fabray. But all the blonde did in the morning was roll out of bed and haphazardly run a comb a few times over her hair before putting it in a bun and then…it was perfect. Stunning, even. Just like Quinn.

She sets her brush down as her eyes habitually flit to the calendar on the wall beside her vanity. They bulge out of her head with the astonishment of having an appointment. She gasps softly, running out the room to find Quinn, only to run right into her. She crashes into the soft, strong, unyielding body of the blonde, gripping Quinn's shirt to prepare for a fall that never comes. Quinn's arms wrap easily around her waist and she looks up to see bemused eyes.

"What are you doing?"

The air whooshes out her lungs, having took up residence there in an effort to prepare for her fall. Her grip loosens on the blonde's shirt as she embarrassedly runs her hands over the silky material to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles. She doesn't move though, only shuffles closer and Quinn's arms tighten around her again. She looks up into those clear hazel eyes, relishing in the adoration she sees shining back at her. The same adoration she knows Quinn can clearly see in her eyes. "We have an appointment later today."

Quinn's eyes light with acknowledgement. "Damn."

"Language."

"Shit." Her eyes sparkle with amusement but she groans in annoyance just the same. "I forgot that was today."

"Me too. I'll probably have to leave rehearsals early. And you—"

Quinn nods. "I'll get off early." She steals one of her hands from around Rachel's waist to rub around the back of her neck as she gnaws at her bottom lip, trying to figure out just how the hell she's going to finish everything in time to leave early. Brown eyes soak up the sight before her, trailing down from striking eyes, to a button nose, to the red lip now being set free from even teeth, to the smooth muscles working in the expanse of a milky pale neck as Quinn swallows. Rachel doesn't miss much.

And Quinn doesn't miss Rachel. The obvious want in her eyes. The hand wrapped around a slight waist lowers until it lightly rests against Rachel's ass. She gives it a light squeeze and Rachel giggles in her arms, squirming. "Stop that!"

"You weren't saying that last night."

"Well, aren't you juvenile?"

"You weren't saying that last night."

"Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you're Santana."

Quinn scowls. "You _definitely _weren't saying that last night."

Rachel leans up to kiss her. If only to shut her up. How the roles have reversed. She easily plies Quinn's mouth open with her own, using the opportunity to sink her teeth into the bottom lip Quinn was abusing earlier. Quinn moans softly, the hand on Rachel's ass palms her harder, jerking her into Quinn's hips as the blonde slides her fingers to the back of Rachel's neck.

Quinn marvels at how they still fit together. And wonders how long it'll last. Rachel's six weeks with nothing to physically show for it except for her slowly diminishing abs, and some odd part of Quinn finds it hot. She's pregnant with hardly any signs. Her body looks exactly the same, reacts exactly the same when she touches it.

Suddenly, Rachel hisses painfully and pulls back as soon as Quinn's hand curves around her breast. Okay, _that_ wasn't exactly the same reaction she usually gets.

"What's wrong?" she pants, lips flushed a tantalizing red that just screams _kiss me harder_.

Rachel stares up at her. "That…hurt," she answers, bewildered.

"What hurt?"

"When you touched me. My breasts hurt."

Her face quickly reddens to catch up with her lips as Quinn gapes at her. "Oh. I—…sorry? I didn't know I was being too rough with you."

"That's just the thing; you weren't. And I like it rough anyway, so even if you were, it shouldn't have hurt."

This conversation needs to end. Quinn's blush is down to her neck and she can't handle Rachel confusing and embarrassing her while simultaneously turning her on by vocalizing how much liked it rough. As if Quinn doesn't know, hasn't known for seven years.

"I have to get to work," she blurts out.

Rachel smiles placatingly at the blonde and nods her head, leaning up to press another kiss against her lips. "Have a good day, baby."

"You too. I'll meet you back here at four."

* * *

><p>"Alright, we'll go through another take soon!" the director yells as everyone groans and disperses. Rachel's hands find her hips in annoyance. She blows up a puff of air, the heat and bright lights starting to get to her.<p>

"Are you okay, Rachel?"

"I'm fine," she says brightly.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Then get it right."

She falters. That's what she's trying to do. Get it right. And it's never been a tough act before. She's good, great even. Exceptional. The best. A shoo-in for this season's _Tony _Awards, her young age be damned. But the bright lights and distinct lack of ventilation are starting to cloud her head. "Is it possible for one of the maintenance men to turn on the air conditioning?"

The director, Joe, rubs his beard in barely contained annoyance before flagging down a maintenance man. Rachel pulls out her phone as the two men converse.

_**I miss you. – R**_

It's sent to Quinn without a second thought. She's only been separated from the blonde for a mere five hours, but that doesn't mean she's not allowed to miss her. Rachel will be the first to admit she's a little clingy, but it's borne from the intense love she shares with the blonde. How else is she supposed to act? She plops down at the edge of the stage, feet dangling below her. Her phone buzzes and she smiles, reading the text.

_**I miss you, too. How are you feeling? – Q**_

She rubs her clamy forehead, pursing her lips in thought.

_**I'm fine. – R**_

The reply is almost instant.

_**You're lying. – Q**_

_**Shh, I'm fine. And I'm going on tonight :D – R**_

_**And I'll be there to watch you shine...or vomit on stage. – Q**_

She scoffs lightly with a smile as she reads the text message, shoving her phone in her pocket. She and Quinn don't agree on everything, but despite whatever they might disagree on, they always support each other one hundred percent.

She takes to her feet. "I'm ready to run the scene again."

"Are you sure?" the director asks impatiently.

"They don't call me Rachel Berry for nothing."

He smiles at the enthusiasm restored. "Everybody, back to your places. We're running it again from the top."

Rachel hits her mark perfectly, opens her mouth, and sings beautifully.

And if she's still a little queasy, a little tired, then, well, it'll just have to take a backseat.

* * *

><p>"Kathy? Yes, I need to speak to you. Now."<p>

She slams the phone down, reclining in her seat. She was just finishing up all of her major phone calls and consulting today and one thing, one tiny thing set _everything _back. And if she doesn't get to the bottom of it soon, then she very well may be missing her and Rachel's first doctor's visit during her pregnancy. And if that happens, Quinn promises to raise hell.

A timid knock on her door interrupts her ranting thoughts. "Come in."

The woman, Kathy, walks in with bouncy red hair, olive green eyes behind a frame of glasses and sits at the very edge of the seat in front of Quinn's desk. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did." She pulls a pile of papers from the right of her desk, turns them around and slams them on the edge of her desk, in front of the other woman. "Do you see that?"

She woman pushes her glasses further on her face and leans over. "It appears to be a monetary report."

"An incorrect one," Quinn responds coolly. "Your job? Is to _correctly _crunch these numbers. Please do so and have them on my desk as soon as possible."

Kathy jerkily reaches forward to grab the stack of papers, avoiding Quinn's gaze. "Would you like them by five?"

Quinn sighs and leans back in her seat. She really just wants to get everything done today before the doctor's appointment and clock out but apparently that's out of her hands now. "If that's your earliest convenience."

"I'll have them as soon as I can." She stands to take her exit.

Quinn's annoyed gaze flits from the now closed door, to the open blinds and white painted wall on the other side of the hallway. She enjoys the solitude that comes with her office being the only one on the right wing of the hallway. Her eyes jump to the pile of papers on her desk, to a picture of Rachel on the very edge of her desk. She picks it up before an avalanche of papers sends the picture frame crashing into the floor and breaking. Quinn stares intently at the picture. It's Rachel in a simple knitted sweater, short skirt, and flats. But she looks so beautiful. Rachel had suggested she have a picture of her the first time she visited the blonde at work six months ago when Quinn first started. She claimed the office lacked the life and vibrancy that only a photo of one Rachel Berry-Fabray could provide.

Her phone vibrates in her desk drawer and she grits her teeth. Doesn't anyone know to not call her at work by now? She opens her desk drawer and swipes her phone for the photo before sliding her phone unlock and answering the call. "What, Santana?"

"_Okay, first off, the word is 'hello'. I know for a fact your mother taught you better than that."_

"And I know for a fact that I've told you I don't know how many times to stop calling me at work."

"_What's your problem?" _she asks, affronted.

"Nothing," she mutters. "What do you want?"

"_I called to ask for a job, but I can see you have a stick up your ass so maybe I'll try back later. Or, you know, just get evicted from my apartment with B and the two of us will just live on the street. I'm from Lima Adjacent and all so I'm sure I can fight the homeless, toothless man that lives two blocks down. And win his box as our new home."_

"No, no, just stop." She exhales quietly, knowing Santana's mostly scheming but still falling for it. "Look, there aren't really job openings here. And you didn't go to school for investment banking."

"_Neither did you but look where you are."_

"I still took statistic and business classes—"

"_Riveting tale, chap. Anyway, I apparently went for the wrong major because I can't find any architecture jobs anywhere."_

"Are you sure? That seems like a job that's always in style."

"…_If that was some type of building design joke I'm judging you. Hard."_

"What do want?" she groans.

"_Come on, Q, give me a job. Don't you, like, need a mail person or something? Someone to get your coffee?"_

She arches an eyebrow. Santana Lopez getting her coffee every morning? She'd purposefully forego making coffee at home if only to have her friend serve her every day. "You would serve me coffee?"

"_Don't let it go to your head, Fabray. I just need to damn job."_

Quinn reaches up to loosen the bun atop her head until she feels her scalp breathe. "And you won't bitch and complain? Even if I ask for five cups of coffee in an hour?"

"_Hire. Me," _Quinn hears through gritted teeth.

There's another knock on her door and she curses silently under her breath. "I gotta go."

"_Wait!"_

She ends the call and drops her phone down to her side as her boss walks in. "Quinn, hi," she says warmly with a smile. Her dark hair falls down her shoulder in waves, cream shirt standing out against gently tanned skin.

Quinn offers a polite smile. "Wanda, just the person I wanted to see. Come have a seat. I have a request."

The woman's eyes brighten as she takes a seat in front of Quinn's desk. "What can I do for you?"

Her lips rub together as she briefly makes a second last decision. Doing a favor for Santana would be nice and all, but the woman had an attitude. And unlike Quinn, didn't bother with pleasantries most of the time. Could she possibly get Quinn in trouble? Fired? Was it worth it?

She clasps her hands on her desk in front of her. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to hire a new employee. Santana Lopez. She has," she wracks her brain to look for compliments to attribute to her best friend, "a great attitude," she lies. "Shows up to work on time and I know she'll work hard."

Wanda strokes her chin in thought. "And what will be her position?"

"My assistant."

"And what does that entail?"

"Answering my phone, running documents throughout the building so that I can spend more time here in my office and work more efficiently."

Wanda scrutinizes Quinn's stony expression for a second longer, her eyes running along the blonde's features. Her head tilts to the side and Quinn maintains eye contact despite how uncomfortable she feels with the leering. And almost as if in a trance, Wanda snaps out of her thought. "Your hair looks great today."

Quinn's face scrunches up briefly, a faux polite, "Thanks" being tossed in Wanda's general direction. "Does she have the job?"

She nods. "Yes. I just hope she's as good at her job as you are."

The comment falls on deaf ears as Quinn begins to stack her papers in a neat pile. Lunch was hours ago by now and in addition to being upset about having to miss her appointment with Rachel, she's also hungry and cranky.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

Quinn gestures vaguely. "Not really; this is stuff I have to do. I have an appointment I'm pissed about missing but I have to bring home the bacon—"

"Go." Wanda waves her off. "I can do it."

Quinn's eyes widen at the thought of being set free. "Are you sure? I still have a lot to do and Kathy crunched the numbers wrong so there are a lot of people that need to be called that are going to be angry—"

"I can do it," she says with a smile. "Seriously, Quinn, just hand me the stack. I can take it back to my office and call everyone myself."

She sighs in relief, quickly gathering everything in her hands and handing it to Wanda before the brunette has a chance to change her mind. "I appreciate this."

"No problem. Hope your appointment turns out well."

"Me too," Quinn murmurs as she quickly gathers her belongings to leave. "Me too."

* * *

><p>Rachel hums softly as she flips through <em>Baby Digest<em> at the doctor's office. "Look at this, Quinn." She flashes the magazine cover in front of the blonde's eyes. "_Baby Digest. _Doesn't that name make you cringe?"

Quinn's narrowed eyes scan the magazine. "Why would that make me cringe exactly?"

Rachel gestures to her stomach. "Because I have a baby in me. Close to my digestive organs. This magazine is highly offensive," she mutters as she continually flips through it for tips.

Quinn scoots warily to the right. She looks around, bored and completely uninterested in magazines so early in Rachel's pregnancy. It's not like the baby is coming tomorrow, why read up about it?

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think our baby is healthy?" Rachel asks quietly.

Quinn turns to her and for the first time since they arrived home so both could change and hop in Quinn's car to make it to the doctor's office; Rachel can see how weary the blonde's eyes are. "You're tired."

"We both are; I'm sure. And yes, I think our baby is very healthy."

Rachel smiles.

Quinn's head lolls to the side to rest on Rachel's shoulder. She yawns quietly. "Sure you want to go on tonight?" she murmurs.

"Mhm. What do you think about naming our child Lilly if he or she is a...she?"

"Hell no."

"Language."

The door to their right creaks open and a smiling nurse greets them. "Berry-Fabrays?"

"Yes." Quinn and Rachel stand, walking with the nurse to room five before walking in. Quinn finds a corner chair as Rachel sits atop the examination table. She wrings her hands, eyeing the countless baby diagrams around the room. Her eyes land on a nearby counter. A pamphlet of a woman nine months pregnant faces her. The woman is smiling, looking wholly uncomfortable as she holds her beach ball shaped belly as if what was inside contained all the secrets in life. Rachel's mouth opens in horror. Was she going to be that fat? That uncomfortable looking? That much in pain? She looks to Quinn.

"Would you still love me if I was fat?"

Quinn almost smiles at the absurd sincerity of Rachel's question. Her eyes fall to Rachel's, pinning them. "Of course I'll love you. You aren't getting fat, just growing a baby, Rach. And the baby needs room to grow so you're…expanding—"

"Getting fat."

This time Quinn does smile, teasingly. She gets out of her seat to walk over to Rachel. Tan thighs part as soon as Quinn's hip grazes her knee and Rachel leans forward, allowing Quinn to invade her personal space.

She takes a deep breath. "Okay, you are going to be fat." Rachel's face falls. Quinn grasps her chin to meet those dark brown eyes head on. "You're going to gain weight, Rachel, that's realistic. But it's not because you're letting yourself go. You're eating, drinking, breathing for another whole being growing inside of you, so yes. You will gain weight. It's inevitable."

Rachel leans back to put space between them but Quinn leans forward, following her. "But you're going to look so beautiful while you do it all."

"I won't be beautiful fat," she grumbles. "I wasn't beautiful in high school and I was the smallest one there. There's no way I'll be beautiful fat."

Reassuring arms snake around her waist, gripping the back of her shirt. She half-heartedly puts up a fight as the blonde roughly drags her forward. Quinn looks up at her with the same love and adoration that Rachel saw in her eyes this morning. "You are very beautiful, Rachel."

Her cheeks heat up as she averts her gaze to a nearby wall. "Sure you aren't looking in a mirror?"

"I'm looking at Mrs. Fabray."

Rachel smirks. "Then I'll have to agree. Judy is beautiful."

Quinn barks out a laugh and pinches Rachel's sides. "Quit being difficult," she growls.

Rachel lurches forward into Quinn's arms in peals of laughter. "No tickling the pregnant woman!"

She smoothes back silky smooth hair to place a kiss to Rachel's temple. "I have a feeling you being pregnant is going to be used as an excuse a lot."

"Perhaps," she chirps.

"Can I come in?"

They both turn to the door at the sound of their doctor's voice. Rachel kisses Quinn as the blonde steps back to take a seat. "Yes, come in!"

In walks Dr. Steinberg, white coat trailing professionally behind her. "Lovely to see you two again. Oh, and pregnant!"

Rachel and Quinn's faces light up as Dr. Steinberg sits atop her stool and strolls over to Rachel. "How have you been feeling?"

"Amazing," Rachel gushes, stars in her eyes. "And awful."

The doctor laughs. "That sounds one hundred percent accurate. Care to describe this amazing awfulness?"

"I throw up almost every day."

"Several times a day," Quinn chimes in.

"And I'm tired. Always tired."

"But you're happy?"

"The happiest."

"Uh huh," she mumbles distractedly as she writes and checks down various boxes on her clip board. Rachel gestures wildly above her trying to get her wife's attention. After a few painstaking seconds, Quinn's eyes find hers. Rachel puffs out her chest, gesturing towards her breasts. Quinn's face scrunches up in confusion and Rachel's fingers take to the air, her thumb and index finger making pinching motions as she emphatically mouths the word _hurt._

Oh, no. Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no. Quinn's eyes widen, mouthing _no _as best she can. She can already feel her face heating up.

Dr. Steinberg looks up to see Rachel's odd movements and wide open mouth. "Is there something the matter?" she inquires cautiously.

Rachel's eyes leave Quinn's, resolute. "I have a bit of an intimate question."

She smiles. "Rachel, I'm your gynecologist. I don't think things can get more intimate than that."

"Right." She nods. "Well, you see, Dr., my breasts are rather…sensitive. I didn't notice it at first but today Quinn touched them and the entirety of my breasts hurt, especially my nipples."

A choked sound is heard behind Dr. Steinberg and she turns around, smirking at how red Quinn is, the tips of her ears burning. "Well, Rachel," she says as she turns back to the brunette, "that's reasonable considering how much your body is changing. It may not look like it yet, but there are a lot of chemical and physical reactions and changes going on. Your hormone levels have spiked to the level of a teenaged boy going through puberty with a lot of _Playboy _magazines under his bed. And _trust me _you'll be feeling like him very soon." She tosses a wink over her shoulder to the red faced blonde before turning back to Rachel. "Just try not to kill your wife."

Rachel grins.

"But back on topic. There isn't much you can do about your breasts—are they swollen?"

"Yes," Quinn whispers behind them, squeaking and clamping a hand over her mouth.

Rachel giggles. "I haven't noticed, though I'm sure my wife has."

"Part of the sensitivity is that they too are beginning to change and engorge. Not much can be done aside from Quinn simply applying a gentler touch."

"You know what? Noted. I'll write it down, I'll commit it to memory, hell I'll even photograph this moment. Can we move on?" This is single-handedly the most embarrassing clinical conversation she's ever had. More than her first pap smear when her gynecologist asked her if she was sexually active yet. And that was pretty brutal.

"You're right, I think we're done here. Everything checks out." Dr. Steinberg rolls back over to Rachel's chart on the counter. "Just sit tight for a few seconds while I grab the ultrasound machine."

"Ultrasound machine?" Quinn asks quietly.

Dr. Steinberg grins. "Don't you want you see your baby?"

She nods mutely.

"Be right back."

She walks out of the door and Rachel lies back on the examination table to get ready. "Come here, Quinn," she murmurs.

Quinn is by her side in an instant. Rachel reaches out to grasp her hand, placing a kiss on it. "On a scale of one to ten: how awkward was that conversation for you?" she asks with a cheeky grin.

Quinn scowls down at her. "Worst conversation of my life."

"You liked it."

"Not at all."

"You have to touch me gently now."

"Or you'll just have to tough it out."

Rachel chuckles quietly. "Ass."

"Language."

"Kiss me."

Her vision suddenly swims with creamy pale skin, hazel eyes and red lips hovering over her. "Say please."

"Now is not the time for such things."

"I suggest you say it."

She pouts playfully up at the blonde. Quinn stares intently at her bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to suck it in her mouth. So she does. She gives Rachel's hand a light squeeze before leaning forward to suck her lip.

They don't get far before the door is opening again and Quinn pulls back, being pinned in place by the obvious want in dark eyes. Rachel clears her throat and turns toward the doctor as she walks in. Dr. Steinberg smiles knowingly at the couple. If Quinn thinks Rachel's a handful now, she has no idea what's in store. She walks over to the other side of the examination table, opposite Quinn. "Okay, I'm going to need you to lift your shirt up until it's just below your breasts."

Her hands fly to the hem of her blouse, only to be intercepted by Quinn as the blonde rolls her shirt up to the edge of her bra. Her hands skim lightly over Rachel's flat stomach before falling to her sides once more. Rachel looks over to smile softly at the blonde. Quinn shrugs a little, no words needed.

"Alright, love birds, come back to me. Rachel, I'm going to spread this gel over you. It'll be a little cool, so this is a warning."

Rachel nods, suddenly nervous. What is she going to see? How will their baby look? Will it even look like a baby? And worse, what if she doesn't even recognize her own child? She reaches blindly beside her, gripping Quinn's hand as Dr. Steinberg rubs the cream across her womb.

"Cold," she mutters.

Quinn places a kiss against our temple. "It's okay. We get to see our baby soon." Her words are rushed with excitement instead of nerves and Rachel clings to it, allowing herself to feel the blonde's anticipation.

Dr. Steinberg finishes configuring the machine before turning to the pair with a smile. "Here we go." Rachel squeezes Quinn's hand tighter. The scanner is placed gently against Rachel's womb, running smoothly across her flesh.

"And you sure this scanner won't disturb the baby?" she asks because she _has_ to.

"Not in the slightest," Dr. Steinberg reassures.

Quinn leans forward over Rachel, squinting her eyes. She can't see anything but black, gray, more black and more gray. "The baby?"

"Almost there." The scanner is moved slightly south, a couple centimeters to the left and, "There."

"Where?" they both ask. Rachel cranes her neck forward to see and Quinn's head darts to the right to see past Rachel.

"_There_," the doctor says. She loves this part. Leaning forward, she places her finger directly over what she's talking about. Quinn's eyes are nearly shut with squinting, trying to see and Rachel's near tears. "Quinn, do you see it?"

"No," she whispers, leaning impossibly closer. Wa –was that it? Those…clustered oval shapes? She points. "Is that it?"

The doctor nods with a smile. "Yep, that's it. Six weeks." She presses a few buttons on the machine before moving it closer.

Rachel's nearly hysterical, tears falling down her face. "I don't see it," she cries. She recoils at the sound of her own voice. "Why am I crying?" she cries harder.

Dr. Steinberg pats her arm gently. "You'll get used to that."

Quinn brings her hand to her face and kisses her knuckles gently. "Look at me, Rach."

She turns her watery gaze to her wife. Quinn cups her cheeks in her hands, wiping her eyes. She turns Rachel back to the screen, pointing at it. "You see those two big circles stacked on top of each other?" she whispers.

Rachel nods, sniffling.

"_That's _our baby. It's just a little small. Like you, really."

Rachel laughs softly, staring a hole through the image. Her baby. The baby inside of her currently. Growing, multiplying. Amazing.

* * *

><p>She had ordered thirty pictures by the time the ultrasound was over. Little Berry-Fabray's first photoshoot.<p>

"I think we should wait to tell our families," she tells the blonde as she lies on the bed.

Quinn watches the way her eyelids flutter with exhaustion. Her eyes fall to the clock on their nightstand. Rachel has to leave in a half hour to prepare for her show. She opts not to remind her. "Oh, yeah? Why is that?"

Rachel's head falls to the side to stare at Quinn perched atop the bed. "Well, you heard Dr. Steinberg. Spontaneous abortion is risky at my stage, probably more so considering we conceived in vitro. I don't want to tell everybody and then…you know," she swallows thickly.

Quinn lies down beside her. She scoots closer until they're face to face, breathing the same air. Her hand falls softly against Rachel's stomach. "She also said it'll take the first twenty weeks until we're in the clear. Do you want to wait that long?"

"Hmm," Rachel hums drowsily, the comfort of Quinn's voice washing over her. She lazily brings her hand up to Quinn's hair, combing softly through it until she reaches the back of her head. She deftly undoes the updo, smiling at the quiet sigh that escapes the lips in front of hers. "Maybe."

"Articulate."

"I'm tired," she whines.

"Go to sleep."

She huffs quietly as her eyes slip shut. "Gotta show. Can't."

"You already are."

"M'not."

"Are too."

"Not."

"Too."

"…not."

"Too."

She doesn't hear a retort, only the even breathing of her wife. The fingers that were running through her hair now slack with exhaustion. Quinn gently untangles herself from the brunette, placing a kiss on her forehead. She swipes Rachel's phone from the bed and walks into the living room. Her thumb swipes down the list of Rachel's contacts until she hits her manager's number.

"Hello? Maria, hi, it's Quinn." The voice on the other line sounds relieved and Quinn almost hates to break the news to her. "Rachel, won't be coming in."

The shrill voice of Rachel's manager filters loudly through the phone in indignation. Quinn pulls it from her ear. "She's sleeping," she grits out. "No, I won't wake her up." She pauses as she continues to listen to the other woman. "That's what understudies are for. Look, you have a show to put on in about two hours so I suggest you start making phone calls. Phone calls that aren't to this number." She hangs up the phone and turns it off without a care in the world. If Rachel wants to rest then everyone that wants to impede that process can go to hell.

She ventures back into the bedroom, contemplating watching TV or falling into bed with her wife.


	5. The Insecurities

**Title: **Unexpected Expectancies

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **NC-17

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **"But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's her biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty."

**A/N: **Don't know how this chapter got to be so long. I was just enjoying writing all the crazy, haha. Hope you enjoy. :) Fair warning, a few typos and errors, I'm sure.

* * *

><p><em>The Insecurities<em>

Rachel strides proudly to her dressing room before shutting the door soundly behind her. She hasn't thrown up today. Her morning sickness had been steadily getting worse as she progressed from week to week. The doctor warned her that she probably wouldn't be seeing any relief until she was around twelve weeks along so Rachel just bides her time, taking solace in rare mornings like this one when her child seems to take pity on her.

She whips back out of her room to grab her costume off a nearby rack, closing the door to try it on. Every two days whether she has a show or not she tries the sleek, black costume on to make sure it still fits. She tries them on, all of them. Or, well…she tries to. There's just a tiny problem. Her fingers tightly grip the black material of her act two costume, trying to make the two ends behind her meet in the middle so she can zip it. But she can't. A small whimper of resignation escapes her as she valiantly tries to make two ends meet. But they won't. "Sarah, can you help me?" she yelps, hoping said woman from the costume department is at least somewhere close enough to her room to hear her.

The door creaks open and she turns her panic stricken face to the other woman. "It won't zip," she exclaims. "It won't even meet to, this is so wrong. What if I can't go on? What if I can't perform? They have to give me at least a few more shows; I'm not ready to leave yet." She can barely breathe, wondering if this is what hyperventilation feels like.

Sarah smiles calmly at her as she approaches the unstable brunette. "It'll be okay, Rachel. Just turn around and I'll see if I can zip it up. And if I can't, then we'll just send it to get it altered."

Rachel nods. That makes sense. Her hands land softly on the small baby bump that's keeping her tight costume from fitting before she turns around to allow Sarah to try her hand at the costume. Small, nimble fingers attach themselves to the costume at the base of her spine and Rachel bites her lip. It's embarrassing that not only does the costume not fit, but she has to have someone else help her into it. Her shoulders slump at the small grunt of frustration behind her. "It's quite alright, Sarah; you can stop now if you'd like. It's become clear to me that I'm too big to wear the costume."

She steps away from Sarah and turns around to be met with a kind smile. "I'll just get it altered Rachel, no big deal. We've talked about this before."

"Yes, we have. I just had no idea this day would come so soon."

She removes the costume, feeling stripped of her pride as she stands half naked in front of the other woman. She averts her gaze to the floor, walking away to find a shirt to toss on. When she looks back up Sarah's gone. She breathes a sigh. Feeling rattled she instantly puts her clothes on, wanting to be as far away from set as humanly possible.

* * *

><p>The comforting aroma of hazelnut wafts to Quinn's nostrils as she takes a whiff of her coffee. She takes a luxurious sip, eyes locked on Santana's. Her lips purse in thought. Santana makes it a little bitterer than she normally liked it. A smirk flits across her lips. How fitting.<p>

"_Well_?" Santana asks impatiently. She stalks over to her own corner of Quinn's office that she'd laid claim to within the first five minutes of stepping foot into her office. Smoothing out her skirt, she takes a seat. It was a push-pull struggle, when she and Rachel had gone shopping to pick her out something that looked professional. Santana had threatened to strangle Rachel an infinite amount of times while Rachel whined about being hungry and needing a nap.

"It's good," Quinn says with a nod. "This might work out after all." She gathers a stack of papers on her desk. "I need another favor though."

"This is getting old already," Santana gripes.

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to fire you?"

She crosses her arms over her chest, as if daring the blonde to fire her on the spot. Quinn waves her off, looking back down towards the stack of papers with intent. She continues to look at her best friend, silently proud. Who knew Quinn would make it this far? From the most repressed lesbian Santana's ever met to being out, proud, and fairly successful. After interning at the business her father wrote her a recommendation for, they had offered Quinn a job. One she took and worked for several years before quitting. If it was one thing Quinn always had a desire to do, it was find her own way, light her own path. She had just lacked motivational people in her life to encourage her to do it. That's where Rachel came in. Santana had threatened the shorter brunette so many times in the past and she reasons she'll do it many more times in the future but one thing that's for certain is the fact that Rachel always seemed to impact Quinn's life in a positive way and push the blonde to do things that Santana hadn't even known she was capable of doing. They fit. In some odd way that really didn't make sense on paper but when put into action, nothing _but _the two of them being together made sense.

"Huh."

"What?"

"I can't fucking believe I just sat here and pondered your relationship with Berry."

"I can't believe you used the word 'pondered,'" Quinn snickers.

"Whatever."

It's silent for another moment as Santana bites her lip in contemplation. "Thanks," she finally says.

Quinn looks up at her again, noticing her fidgety closed off posture and averted gaze. Her eyes soften, sparing her friend the awkward conversation. "You're welcome. So, B still working?" she asks in an attempt to steer the conversation somewhere else.

Santana smiles. "My babe's in _all _the music videos shaking that fine ass."

"I saw her in Beyoncé's latest."

"Hot, right?" she asks with a self-satisfying smirk.

"Do they ever let you go on set and stuff?"

"I got all kinds of autographs."

A knock on the door garners both their attentions. "Come in," Santana commands.

"It's my office," Quinn grumbles, then much louder, "Come in."

Wanda opens the door, peaking around the corner. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Her eyes land on Santana. Santana shrugs indifferently, turning to Quinn.

"No, you're not interrupting at all. Have you met Santana? She's my new assistant."

Wanda walks further into the room. "I haven't. Hello, I'm Wanda, Quinn's boss." She walks over to Santana's side of Quinn's office, offering her hand. It's taken cautiously but firmly as Santana stands to look her in the eye. "Santana Lopez. Pleasure."

She flashes a disarming smile as she moves to Quinn. Her eyes sweep over the blonde. "Quinn, your blouse is lovely," she says as she walks closer. She leans across Quinn's desk, fingering the short sleeve of the canary yellow blouse between her fingers. "You have great taste in fashion."

Quinn smiles. "Thanks. My wife bought it for me."

Wanda leans back jerkily, catching Santana's attention. Her eyes slide over to the pair.

"Well, that's certainly…new. I didn't know you were married," Wanda says.

Quinn flashes the large diamond on her finger. "Five years strong. Her name is Rachel Berry."

Her jaw drops. "Rachel Berry? _The _Rachel Berry of _Spring Awakening _and _Wicked_?"

"I didn't know you were into Broadway. But yes, the one in the same."

Santana's eyes flit back and forth from Quinn to Wanda, her eyebrow arching in amusement. Oh, this is good.

Wanda's mouth opens and closes a few times before she's able to speak. "Well, congratulations. Really, I had no idea. That's…great."

Quinn nods. "Yeah, she's amazing. We're having a baby now."

Santana bites her lip to keep from laughing. Nail, meet coffin. Wanda nods as she soaks up all the new information she's learned. Santana places her elbow on the armrest of the chair, chin in hand as she watches the train wreck.

Wanda clears her throat, running a hand through her dark hair. "That's really great, Quinn. You should invite her to the office social we're having."

"Sure, when is it?"

She slowly steps back towards the door and Santana's amused eyes watch her the entire way. "The date slips my mind right now; but I'll be sure to get back to you."

"Okay, sure," she nods. "Hey, was there something you wanted? I assume you came for something."

She exhales quietly in frustration before turning around. "I came to ask for Katy's extension, got caught up in conversation and realized halfway through that I have it already," she finishes with a nervous laugh, running her fingers through her hair.

Quinn gives her an odd look. "Oh. Well, glad you have it."

"Right. See you later, Quinn."

"Bye."

Santana stares at the door as it closes, a laugh bubbling in her gut. She turns to Quinn. "Okay, what was that?"

"What was what?" Quinn murmurs. Her hands expertly navigate through the papers on her desk as she gathers everything into pile after pile. Papers, paper clips, and staples flying around her.

"Oh, I don't know, Quinn. Maybe the awkward of having your hot boss want to fuck you."

Her jaw tightens. She levels Santana with a confused gaze. "She doesn't want to sleep with me."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Ugh. You're just as oblivious as you were in school. Wake up, Quinn. She wants up your skirt and if you're not careful—"

"What? If I'm not careful, _what_?" she asks, irritated.

"You're gonna fuck her," she shrugs with no hint of apology.

"Fuck _you_. I don't care about my past relationships and track record. I've been faithful to Rachel for seven years."

Santana's quiet for a moment as she stares at her friend long and hard. Finally, she shrugs. "You're right."

She runs a shaky hand through her hair, sighing quietly. "I know I am."

"So, riddle me this, Quinn. Why are you so anxious?"

"I'm not—"

"I've known you for twenty years, Quinn. Even the fat you. You're anxious and nervous. But you shouldn't be. You haven't done anything…yet."

She sneers at the insinuation. "I thought you liked Rachel."

"I don't hate her. But as your best friend? It's time to lay down all the facts. One: your boss wants you. Two: she's hot as fuck. Three: you don't have a good track record in the being faithful department."

Quinn opens her mouth to protest what she feels is an assassination of her character but Santana continues. "Four: you've been faithful to Rachel for seven years."

"I love Rachel," she says quietly.

Santana nods. "I know. But just because you love her doesn't make you incapable of cheating. Especially when you're feeling really low and insecure, trust me." She looks away, past hurt haunting her normally mischievous features.

"I'm not you."

"No," she says quietly. "You're not."

* * *

><p>Rachel curls her legs underneath her tightly at the end of the couch, her head resting on Mercedes' shoulder as they watch an Oprah rerun. "She's amazing," Rachel breathes.<p>

Kurt nods from the opposite end of the couch beside Mercedes. "Can you imagine being a guest on that show? She's always giving stuff away to her audience. 'You get a car! You get a car! You get a car!'" All three of them laugh as Mercedes mocks Oprah's larger than life yell of excitement.

A commercial flashes across the screen and Rachel lifts her head, turning to face Mercedes and Kurt more fully. "I have something to tell you both," she whispers conspiringly.

"Well, spit it out, girl," Kurt says, wide-eyed. He was never one for waiting to hear possible gossip.

"I'm pregnant!" she exclaims with a giddy squeal. She squirms in her seat as her two best friends take in the information. Mercedes' head tilts as she tries to comprehend and Kurt's jaw drops. More seconds tick by until it sinks in. When it does, Mercedes engulfs the brunette in a hug, Kurt hopping off the couch to do the same. "I can't believe it!" Kurt cries. "How far along are you?"

"Nine weeks," she replies brightly.

Mercedes surveys her carefully. "Wow. You aren't even showing."

Rachel grimaces. "Actually, I am. But only a little. Enough to not fit in my costume," she grumbles. She gets off the couch to stand in front of them, grabbing the hem of her loose cotton shirt and lifting it to expose her stomach. Their jaws drop yet again as a slightly swollen tan belly comes into view. "You're still so tiny," Kurt breathes in awe.

"How does it feel? Being pregnant and all."

"It's truly shaping up to be the most amazing experience I've had thus far," she says serenely. "I laugh, I cry, I vomit, I drive Quinn crazy. Well, crazier than normal. Everything is so…extreme."

"And my body keeps changing," she continues, softly stroking her stomach. "I'm admittedly a little uncomfortable with the unflattering changes that are happening."

Mercedes grabs her hand to bring her back to the couch and Kurt bounces to stand in front of her, kneeling to rest his head on her lap. "Can I touch Little Barbra?" he asks.

"Hell, no. That's Little Michael Jackson," Mercedes chimes in as Kurt's hand tentatively reaches out to rub Rachel's stomach. Rachel laughs at their antics, smiling down at Kurt. "I don't think we'll know the sex of the baby for a while."

"Five bucks says it's a girl."

"Ten bucks says it's a boy."

Kurt and Mercedes glower at each other intensely, shaking hands on their new bet. "Deal."

Rachel leans back against the soft cushions of Mercedes' couch, suddenly tired. She yawns. "I just hope my baby is happy and healthy."

"How does Quinn feel about all this?" Kurt asks.

She smiles sheepishly. "I may or may not be driving her mad."

"Aren't you always?" Mercedes teases.

"No!" she vehemently denies. Then with a playful smile, "It's not like she really opposes. She knew that I had a flair for the dramatic before she married me."

Kurt laughs loudly, snatching a bag of chips off the couch. "Isn't that the truth? That poor woman. She's going to need a few tranquilizer darts to deal with you."

Rachel scowls good-naturedly at the jab. "She will need no such thing."

Kurt's hand reaches out to touch Rachel's belly again and Mercedes bats his hand away, wanting her own turn. He cuts her a look before returning to his chips. "So, how's Quinn doing with the whole Jesse thing?"

"Fairly well," Rachel says with a nod. "As well as one can. As well as _Quinn_ can. She still grumbles here and there and makes it her prerogative to undermine Jesse when she sees it fit. But all things considered, she's handling it a lot better than I thought she would. I imagine the fact that I haven't been seeing him much lately is helping the transition into this new situation run more smoothly."

"Bout damn time one of you has a baby," Kurt calls from the floor. "I can't wait to spoil Little Barbra. By the way, if he's a boy, I'm still calling him Little Barbra."

"I'm sure Quinn will have something to say about that."

"I can't wait to go shopping," Mercedes gushes. She catches Kurt's eye. "Two words: _Baby Gap_."

He gasps loudly, clutching his chest. "Girl, _yes_. Rachel, your baby will be fierce."

She smiles, looking back and forth between her two best friends. She gazes at their clothes appreciatively. Who better to trust to dress her child? She doesn't want her Little Barbra or Little Michael to be a walking fashion disaster like she was for over half her life.

"I trust the two of you to buy age appropriate clothes."

"Your child will love us. It'll always want to come over," Kurt says.

"You have to tell us right away if it's a boy or girl," Mercedes says. "We can celebrate knowing the sex by having a shopping spree."

She's suddenly aware of all the clothes and accessories she and Quinn are going to have to buy. A crib, changing table, onesies, bibs, blankets, _lots _of blankets. She smiles adoringly at her belly.

"I can't wait," she murmurs.

* * *

><p>Quinn sinks into her pillow softly. Saturday afternoons never felt so good. It had been a whirlwind three weeks that started with Rachel being reprimanded by her manager about missing a show. Rachel then ineffectively reprimanded an unapologetic Quinn for the blonde not waking her up. Quinn hadn't been the least bit sorry. Rachel needed rest, so she gave it to her. Honestly, how could anyone argue with that? But Rachel did. So Quinn argued back. It was a thirty minute argument that included raised voices and slammed doors. Rachel had later come back and tearfully apologized for causing an argument, situating herself in Quinn's arms on the couch and the two of them fell asleep in front of a movie. The only relationship that wasn't repaired was between Quinn and Rachel's manager, Maria. But it isn't like Quinn cared. She had suspected from day one the other woman didn't like her very much.<p>

Doctor's appointments were every week. Rachel had to go to more appointments than the average pregnant woman due to the fact she conceived in vitro. They varied in levels of embarrassment for Quinn.

And to top everything off, Santana started working with her about a week ago. She both liked and loathed having her best friend working for her but that was to be expected. All in all, a long three weeks.

She curls onto her side, sighing quietly as she teeters between conscious and unconsciousness. She's barely aware of slim arms wrapping around her waist. A solid weight rests against her back and she breathes deeply, strawberries surrounding her. "Rachel," she breathes, beginning to turn around.

"Wifey," she hears playfully whispered against her ear. The arms around her waist tighten to keep her in place. "Don't move," Rachel continues. "I don't get to hold you like this often and I want to do it as much as I can now before it becomes physically impossible."

She gives up the fight, not really having much fight in her. Rachel smiles, burying her head into the back of Quinn's neck. This is really the only time she gets to hold the blonde like this. When Quinn's either sick or too tired to put up a fight. Her lips drag across the soft skin of Quinn's neck. "Santana called earlier to check in but said she wasn't talking you because she's still angry. What are you two arguing about?" she murmurs.

"Nothing important," Quinn responds, voice equally low. She doesn't want to rile Rachel up with Santana's latest baseless accusations. Rachel nods, fingers slipping under her white tank top to glide along the flat plain of her stomach. A jolt of awareness pulses through Quinn but she ignores it, too tired to do anything about it.

Rachel's lips ghost gently along Quinn's neck to her shoulder. She licks her lips, groaning quietly. Quinn tastes good. Always has. Her lips kiss back up along the side of Quinn's neck. She bathes the creamy pale skin with languid kisses, applying more and more pressure with each press of her mouth to that tantalizing skin. Her lips part to suck lightly on the skin beneath her lips. She tightens her hold around Quinn, bringing the blonde closer to her, Quinn's ass nestled between her hips. She moans into Quinn's neck at the mere thought of her ass.

"Rachel." Her head cranes to allow that inquisitive mouth to roam freely. She's tired. She tries to hold on to that train of thought.

"Hmm?"

She whimpers as a slick tongue darts out to bathe her flesh. "I'm trying to sleep."

Rachel smirks, pulling back to admire the red dot on Quinn's neck. Who says hickies are just for hormonal teenagers? "Why are you trying to sleep?" she husks.

"I'm tired."

She hums softly as if musing over how tired the blonde might be. "Sorry about that," she mutters unapologetically. "Maybe you just need something to arouse you."

Her mouth falls open with a groan at the mere word. "I don't want to be...aroused."

"I think you already are," she purrs.

Her lips return to Quinn's neck, licking, sucking, biting _gently_ because apparently asking Quinn to wear her hair down at work to cover hickies is always out of the question. Her fingers crawl over Quinn's abdomen to trace the defined muscles.

Quinn shivers, swallowing thickly before her mouth falls open again. Air. There isn't enough of it. Rachel isn't even doing anything yet and already she wants to turn over, pin her wife to the bed and fuck her. She arches her back as sneaky fingers slink across her sternum. Rachel whimpers behind her, Quinn's ass rocking straight into her clit. Her nipples are hard already, rubbing Quinn's back through her tank top and Rachel isn't sure if the stimulation to her sensitive breasts is pleasurable or painful but the ambiguity only adds to the heat growing in her stomach and the wetness between her legs. She thrusts shamelessly against Quinn's ass, her fingers curling around the blonde's breast. "You know what I want, Quinn, don't make me beg." She feels out of her mind, out of her body. Rachel Berry-Fabray has more self-control than this. Sure, there are times when she actively chooses not to use that self-control, but it's normally always there.

She thrusts back into Rachel purposefully, the pants and grunts from behind her spurring her on. A flat palm brushes over her nipple and she bites her lip as shockwaves pound between her legs. "Maybe I like it when you beg," she pants. Rachel pinches her nipple roughly. A strangled groan falls from her lips. "Harder."

"Fuck me," Rachel groans.

"Beg me."

"Quinn…" Her eyes roll into the back of her head as the blonde picks up rhythm, pushing back into her over and over and over again. "Q, please, baby."

Quinn's thighs clench together as the nickname is breathed against her ear. Her hand blindly reaches back to tangle into Rachel's hair. Anything for contact. "Tell me you want it."

"I want it," she pants.

"Tell me you need it."

"_Yes_," she moans as Quinn tugs on her hair. "I –I need it."

Quinn groans at the desperation in her wife's voice. She turns over and does just what she's been wanting to do, pin Rachel to the bed. It's been years. Years and almost every time they have sex it's the same act of lustful desperation. They can be playful, draw it out but as Quinn looks down into Rachel's practically pitch black eyes once the brunette's shirt is over her head, she knows that the last thing Rachel wants is to draw it out. Play time would be for later. This now is apparently a serious matter. She rips the thong off Rachel's body, leaving her completely naked and she's left speechless.

Rachel's eyes open at the blonde's inaction. Her hazy gaze finds dark hazel eyes. "What's wrong?" she asks, self-conscious.

She reaches a hand out to palm the protruding belly in front of her, almost unsure if she's seeing things right. Was this there yesterday? Her thumb softly strokes just below Rachel's navel. "You're starting to show," she whispers.

Taking the comment as an insult, Rachel tries to cover up as best she can while being pinned under Quinn's hips. Her hands bat the blonde's away as she instinctively covers her own belly.

"Whoa, what are you doing?"

"You think I'm fat. I'm already unattractive to you," she grumbles as she tries to wriggle out from under the blonde.

Quinn's jaw drops. She rubs her face in frustration. Reaching out, she quickly grapples for Rachel's wrists. "Let go, Quinn," she growls. But the blonde doesn't let up. She grabs for slender wrists, pinning them against the plush bed sheets below. "Have you lost your mind?" Quinn asks.

She huffs quietly, chest heaving as she stares up at the blonde defiantly. It's just like when she tried her costume on a couple days ago and embarrassedly couldn't pull it up over her stomach. This is the single most humiliating thing that's ever happened to her. And that includes high school. To be stuck below Quinn, completely naked, and feeling entirely unattractive. Her eyes sting with tears she refuses to cry. "Will you get off of me?" she asks quietly.

"No, I won't. What is your problem?"

"I'm mortified."

Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Why is this mortifying for you? It's just sex."

Her eyes flash with hurt and anger. Just sex? _Just _sex? Is this what their lives have already been reduced to with Rachel's nine weeks of pregnancy? "If you don't want me, Quinn, that's fine. But having me lie here on display is extremely embarrassing and uncalled for."

"Who said I didn't want you?" she asks confusedly.

"You said!"

"When?"

Her eyes clench shut to keep her tears at bay. "Just get off of me, please."

The pair of strong thighs on either side of her move away and Rachel takes a deep breath. She tries to lift her arms only to find them still tightly restrained to the bed. A moment later the warmth of Quinn's hips rest snuggly between her legs and she opens her eyes to find Quinn even closer, staring down at her, angry and determined. "I'm going to ask you one more time; what is wrong with you?"

"Stop talking to me like I'm a child!"

"Then actually _talk _to me! You're good at that, so do it!"

Quinn settles down more fully on top of her and as hard as Rachel tries to hold on to anger, she can't help her body's reaction. Every single curve of Quinn's body molds so perfectly into her own. She arches slightly in an attempt to get closer. She can see the recognition of what's happening in Quinn's eyes and she turns away. Damn her body.

"You said I'm starting to show," she whispers.

"You are," Quinn says equally as quietly. Her hips rock up in Rachel one more time, watching the smooth expanse brunette's neck as she swallows thickly. She rocks forward again and again and again until Rachel groans, bucking harder into her. "I don't see what the problem is."

"The problem," she whimpers as Quinn's breasts slide across her nipples, "is that I feel –I feel ugly."

She buries her face into Rachel's neck, peppering kisses along tan skin. "You're not ugly," she pants. She thrusts forward harder, long legs wrapping around her waist. "You're beautiful."

"Get the strap-on," Rachel says lowly, all pretenses out of the window.

Quinn chuckles quietly into her neck. "Maybe later." She slides further up her body, maintaining contact as Rachel writhes below her. She kisses a trail up to her ear. "I want to sketch you."

A displeased sound falls from full lips. "Now?"

"After?"

"Yes, please."

She swings a leg over Rachel's thigh, jamming her other leg tightly against the wet flesh between tan thighs. A strangled moan falls from Rachel's lips as her hips pump leisurely against the strong thigh pressed against her. Quinn lifts to rest onto her left arm, looking at Rachel below her. She bites her lip at the sight of Rachel's flushed skin and undulating hips. Her gaze rakes across her torso until the sight of two perfect breasts greet her. Swollen, indeed. Her hands twitch to feel the weight them, palm them, squeeze them and she wastes no time.

Rachel arches as delicate fingers travel along her side. Quinn's hand lifts to curl over her breast and, when awareness kicks in, Rachel squirms nervously. "Gently!" she squeaks out just in the nick of time.

Quinn's lips twitch upwards in amusement. Good thing Rachel warned her when she did because she was two seconds away from roughly palming the mound of flesh. Instead she lightly runs the palm of her hand over a tan breast. Rachel's entire body quakes as electric shocks of pleasure shoots from her breast to between her legs then back up again. She thrusts faster against the thigh firmly between her legs, sliding her hard clit deliciously against the strong, unyielding muscle her wife offers her.

She cries out as Quinn's warm mouth engulfs the over sensitized peak. Her hands instantly tangle in long blonde hair, fisting and twisting the locks, digging into Quinn's skull because everything is simultaneously too much and not enough. "_Q_," she whines. Quinn releases a trembling moan against her nipple before pulling away with a wet pop. She smiles down at Rachel, her hand slipping between her legs.

"I bet you could come just from nipple play alone," she challenges with an eyebrow raise.

Rachel moans in agony as Quinn's thigh falls away from her overheated flesh. She was close. Now she just feels swollen, slick and hot all over. Fingers skim briefly over the small swell of her stomach and she doesn't even bat an eyelash. "I –I have no doubt that I could," she pants, swallowing thickly. "But right now I just need—"

She's silenced by a pair of soft lips against her own. Quinn's tongue instantly slips inside to stroke against hers and Rachel's toes curl. She arches into the lithe body above her, shivering when her nipples meet Quinn's. Her hand glides down Quinn's torso to rest between her legs with ease, groaning at the abundance of wetness that greets her. Quinn thrusts quickly against the hand between her legs. "Together."

Neither is sure which one breathes that word into existence but with Rachel's hiss when Quinn slides two in knuckle deep and the whine in the back of Quinn's throat when Rachel swiftly repays the favor, it doesn't matter.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Quinn tries her best to ignore the random question. Until Rachel asks it again. She groans in frustration, pressing her thumb firmly against Rachel's clit and swirling in the hardest circles she can manage. "Mhm," she hums, jaw clenched shut against the increasing pressure in her belly. Her mind swims, marveling at the slick sound that sliding in and out of Rachel creates. Moments like these never get old.

"Am I…am I the prettiest girl you've ever met?" she moans. Her body writhes eagerly as Quinn mercilessly teases her clit. The blonde slides out and adds a third finger and Rachel goes cross eyed as the digits rub against her inner walls. She's not sure where the questions are coming from. But now that the floodgates are open she can't stop.

"Yes."

"The prettiest girl you've ever met?"

Her thumb swipes over Quinn's clit and the blonde nearly topples over on top of her. "Fuck yes," she grits out. She leans down to bite Rachel's throat, whether out of pleasure or to give the brunette payback for actually making her think at a time like this, she isn't sure.

"Say it," she pants.

"What?"

"Say I'm the prettiest girl you've ever met."

Rachel's insane. Certifiably so, is the only thing Quinn can think of and it only serves to make her clench even harder around Rachel's fingers. Why must she be so attracted to this woman and her craziness? The sound of small whines and whimpers trapped in the back of Rachel's throat alerts the blonde to the fact that she's close. She circles her clit even harder, pulling out briefly to circle, only to drive back in harder and faster.

"Shit, shit, _shit_," she moans, upping the pace of her own thrusting. With Quinn's inner muscles squeezing the way they are it's making it harder. "Tell me, Quinn."

"You're beautiful, baby," she groans.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Her arm wraps around Quinn as warmth envelops her body. "With me, Q," she moans. "Come with, me."

"I'm trying." Rachel pulls her down with the arm wrapped around her, thrusting harder and faster. She stills her hand, her two fingers rubbing Quinn's walls from the inside as her thumb continues to stroke her clit. "Oh, _fuck_," Quinn whimpers. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

"Me too." Rachel buries her face into a long, pale neck, crying out as her entire body enflames. She feels Quinn tremble in her arms, vaguely hears her name being called as her entire body thrums with release. Her nipples strain, her eyes squeeze shut, the back of her neck feels hot and all she can think is to hold onto Quinn as they both fall off the face of the earth.

When they both finally calm down, Quinn falls over to her side, Rachel quickly following right after her to curl tightly into her. The blonde smiles a little, curling an arm protectively around Rachel as small shivers continue to roll over the brunette's body. She rubs her back gently to calm her down. Rachel sighs quietly, burying her face in Quinn's neck. She kisses the slightly damp skin sweetly. "Thank you," she whispers.

"For the sex?" she snorts, laughing as Rachel pinches her side.

"For calling me beautiful."

"You are," Quinn says simply.

"I just have a hard time believing that. Especially now that I'm pregnant. I'm going to be fat Quinn. And you…you'll always be beautiful, and perfect, and sexy and I can't help but feel inadequate."

Quinn pulls Rachel back to look her in the eye. "I make you feel inadequate?"

Rachel's eyes widen. "No, no! Never! _You_ make _me _feel beautiful, and perfect, and sexy."

"Then stop being insecure, Rachel."

"It's not that easy."

"Try. And if that doesn't work then try harder because I'll always think you're beautiful and I'll never think any less of you. I don't care how big you get within these nine months; you'll always be beautiful to me. So…shut up."

She smiles bashfully, rolling her eyes at the last bit. "Thank you." She leans up to kiss her sweetly.

A loud knock at the door forces the pair to break apart. Quinn scowls at the direction of the noise as she gets out of bed. "Can't I get some fucking sleep?"

"Quinn!"

"Yeah, yeah," she gripes. She grabs a black silk robe from her closet before walking downstairs to the front door. Her stomach drops when she peers through the peephole. She stands there, absentmindedly running her foot along her calf as she contemplates not answering the door.

"I know you're in there, Quinn," Jesse calls from the other side of the door.

She growls quietly, unlocking the door and swinging it open. "What are you doing here?"

He rocks back on his heels. "Hello to you, too."

Her eyes instantly zero in on the bouquet of flowers in his hands, the card tucked neatly between two petunias with the word _Congratulations _scribbled across. "She told you."

He nods. "I just came here to congratulate you guys."

"Well now you have."

"Can I see her?"

Her stomach twists and her blood begins to boil. "No, I don't believe you ca—"

"Jesse?"

Quinn turns around to see Rachel tightening her pink, plush cotton robe as she walks towards the pair. Her hair is wild and she's sporting a noticeable bruise along the side of her neck. Pride swells within Quinn to coincide with her annoyance. "You told him?"

Rachel walks closer, picking up on Quinn's rigid posture and clipped tone. "Yes," she says calmly.

"I thought you said we weren't telling anyone for a while?"

Rachel looks over to Jesse, who seems to be looking at the pair with interest, head cocked to the side, eyes slightly narrowed with focused attention, almost as if he's wondering how Rachel will explain herself out of this one. She looks back over to Quinn to see the blonde with hands on her hips and lips pressed tightly together. Clearly Quinn and Jesse's thoughts are running along the same lines. "We can talk about this later," she quietly says to the blonde.

Quinn looks from Rachel to Jesse, back to Rachel again, her hand white knuckling the door knob. "Fine." Her shoulders pull tight as she walks away from the two and out of the living room. Rachel winces at the loud noise she hears as Quinn stomps up the stairs. She turns back to Jesse. "I'm sorry," she offers.

He smiles. "Don't be. Anyway, here." He hands her the bouquet and she gingerly accepts them into her arms. She presses one of the flowers to her nose, smelling the delicious scent. Her stomach churns instantly at the vile smell. But she flashes a bright smile, a show face. "These are lovely."

His arms cross easily over his chest as he peers past her. "I guess I don't get an invite inside this time, then?"

She smiles apologetically. "I don't think so. I have an angry wife to attend to."

"Right. Well, take care, Rachel. Let me know if you need anything."

He hops off her porch and Rachel closes the door behind her. She deposits the flowers onto the couch, finally being able to breathe clean air. Normally she loved floral scents but she figures the baby strongly disagrees with her because the smell of the bouquet has her nearly running to the bathroom.

She rubs her hand over her belly as she climbs the stairs to find Quinn. Not sure how to broach this subject, she opts for winging it. Improvising, something she's good at. It's never failed her before with a confrontation with Quinn and it won't fail her now. She opens the door to find Quinn ripping the black robe off her body. Her dark eyes glaze over as she watches strong feminine shoulders, the pale expanse of her back, the two dimples at her lower back and the smooth, round flesh of her ass. She inhales a shuddering breath, her gaze continuing down shapely thighs and calves to her feet. She enters the room just as Quinn slides under the blankets.

Hazel eyes meet hers briefly before looking away in anger and defiance. Rachel sits down on the bed just as Quinn turns away. "Quinn, don't," she starts.

The blonde instantly turns over, clutching the sheets to her as her fiery eyes land on Rachel's again. "No, Rachel, you don't. You sat there and told me three weeks ago that you didn't want to tell anyone about your pregnancy and then you turn around and tell Jesse. Jesse of all people. And you know how I feel about him right now."

"Yes, I know," she sighs. "The only reason I told him was because he had a right to know."

"No, he did not."

"Yes, he did. He's the donor and he's had to visit the sperm bank on more than one occasion because the first two attempts at in vitro didn't take. I just wanted to let him know that I'm pregnant now and his services are no longer needed."

Quinn's eyes hold hers unwaveringly. "Is that it? That's the truth?"

Rachel bites her lip nervously. "What are you trying to imply?"

She's quiet for a moment. Her eyes sweep over Rachel, not in appreciation, but almost as if she's sizing her up. She turns away. "Are you gay?"

The brusque question catches Rachel off guard and she turns to face her wife fully. "I've known you for seven years. Long enough to know that an abrupt and striking question such as that is generated from calculation, intense thinking and over-analysis." She tilts her head as if trying to read Quinn better. "Talk to me."

"Answer me," she says firmly.

"Why?"

"Because I know I am!" she cries as if it's obvious.

"Quinn—"

"I've had sex with a man to know whether or not I liked it and you haven't. How do you know if you're gay?"

She glares hard at the blonde. "Shall I rally up a set of male suitors for intercourse? Call Jesse back here, perhaps?"

Quinn's eyes harden. "That's wasn't funny at all."

"Neither is the fact that you keep bringing him up," she fires back.

"He was on our doorstep to bring you flowers!"

"Because I'm pregnant!"

"I'm through with this." She flings the covers back as she jumps out of bed, storming to the robe she tossed onto the chair in the corner of the room. "If you can't see that he wants to fuck you, then I'm done. I'm done. Do whatever the hell you want."

"He has a girlfriend!" Rachel shrieks as she gets up to follow after the blonde. "And what do you mean I can 'do whatever the hell I want'? Do you actually think I would sleep with him?"

"I don't know what to think because you don't tell me anything!" She stops in the living room to turn around and face Rachel. She was hoping to get away from her to get a few minutes to calm down but apparently Rachel's having none of that.

"What is there to tell you?" she yells back.

Quinn says nothing. She grabs the remote from in between the couch cushions, plops down on the couch and turns the TV on. Rachel hovers over her as Quinn cranes her neck to see past her and glare angrily at the television screen. She's not really watching TV. They both know but Quinn wants to keep up the pretense that she is and Rachel wants Quinn to crack before she does. She continues to stare at the screen and Rachel continues to stare down at her.

Minutes later when nothing has changed, Rachel carefully lowers herself to the couch to sit beside her. Quinn leans back, finally being able to fully see the TV screen she isn't even watching. Rachel's eyes well with tears as she continues to watch the motionless blonde beside her. She looks so bitter and angry and all Rachel wants is to see her smile again. She brings a hand up to cover her mouth as her lower lip begins to tremble.

The sniffles she hears beside her shatter the cloud of anger surrounding her and she turns to find Rachel crying freely. "Why are you crying?"

A quiet sob wrenches from Rachel's throat. "Do –do you not want this baby?" Her heart twists painfully as she asks the question. "Do you regret the decision to have this baby?"

"Rachel, what—"

"Quinn, I just want you to be happy. I want _us _to be happy."

She reaches forward to drag Rachel into her arms. "I'm happy," she promises. Rachel cries harder into Quinn's shoulder. "I _love_ our baby, Rachel. How could you even ask me that?" Her hands run soothingly along Rachel's back. Rachel's hiccupping breaths brush against Quinn's neck as her body shudders with sobs. "I will never regret having this baby with you. I love you both."

"Then what's wrong?" Rachel cries.

"Nothing," she whispers.

Rachel pulls back, looking lost. Quinn's eyes look cloudy and conflicted as she looks away. Nimble fingers gently grasp her chin to bring her back to dark brown, determined eyes. "Quinn, please just talk to me."

Her jaw clenches with indecision. She worries her bottom lip nervously between her teeth. "I don't want to lose you," she finally whispers.

"How will you lose me?" Rachel asks innocently with wide, uncomprehending eyes. Quinn shrugs, turning away. "Talk to me, Quinn."

"Jesse wants you."

"No, he doesn't. You told me yourself that he said he didn't."

"No, I said he admitted that he wanted you in the past. He never said anything about whether or not he was over you, just that he has a girlfriend now."

"Regardless," Rachel cups Quinn's cheeks in her hand, unable to help her watery smile at the sight of a small pout on the blonde's lips. "I'm not going anywhere, Quinn. I love you. I love our family and I'm married to you. You're stuck with me."

"And you're stuck with me," Quinn says determinedly. "Jesse doesn't get to have you."

"Jesse's never had me. Can we stop talking about him now, please?"

Quinn acquiescence quietly, biting her lip guiltily at the sight of Rachel's red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. She reaches up to carefully wipe her tears away. "Can you stop crying all the time?" she grumbles. "It's starting to make me feel guilty."

"Then stop making me cry," she pouts. Quinn captures her lips in an apology. Her arms wrap around her shoulders and comb soothingly through long hair. "Sorry," she murmurs between kisses.

Rachel nods, kissing the blonde back with equal fervor. Her stomach begins to churn and she pulls back with a grunt.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asks.

She groans, clutching her stomach before running out of the living room. "Quinn, can you get those flowers away from me?"

Quinn looks on in confusion as the tail of Rachel's robe disappears into the bathroom. She looks over to the lonely bouquet of flowers on the other sofa. A shit eating grin splits across her face in understanding. "Don't worry, baby," she calls loudly. "These flowers make me sick to my stomach, too."

She swiftly plucks the flowers from the couch, travelling giddily to the kitchen to throw them in the trash. If only she could do the same with her problems with Jesse. She takes a deep breath, telling herself to calm down. She's already made Rachel cry once and doesn't want to upset her wife again in one day. Rachel meets her in the kitchen just as she pours her a glass of orange juice. "You threw them away, didn't you?" she asks knowingly.

Quinn just hums quietly as she leans back on the counter to stare at Rachel, the same devious grin on her face.

"Quinn Fabray!"

"Oh, you left the Berry out, huh? I must really be in trouble," she says with a laugh.


	6. The Gender

**Title: **Unexpected Expectancies

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **"But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's her biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty."

**A/N**: Any and all mistakes are mine. Hope you all enjoy the chapter!

* * *

><p><em>The Gender<em>

The curtain closes on her final show and Rachel's eyelids flutter shut with it. She listens to the roaring applause on the other side, the ringing in her ears, and what she assumes is her own heart beating. It's an out of body experience to be on stage, reciting well-practiced and engrained lines with such heart felt diction, singing pitch perfectly every night, hitting mark after mark as if she was made to do this. Truthfully, she was. She wipes the tears from her eyes. The curtain draws open. Rachel's eyes shimmer and glisten as she takes in everyone in the theater giving her a standing ovation. Her gaze falls to the front row because only one person matters above them all. Quinn is out of her seat, grinning widely. Rachel catches the kiss her wife blows her, clutching it to her heart in a fist. Microphone in her other hand, she tries valiantly to wave at her friends beside Quinn. Mercedes, Kurt, Brittany, and Santana (begrudgingly) wave back at her from the front row. Her heart swells with pride at the support that came out to see her. She's never had friends like these. There's a niggling thought in the back of her mind that her fathers should have been here for this and to a lesser degree, her mother, but she stomps it down, content to live in the moment.

"I'll be back," she reassures herself through gritted teeth as she puts on her best show face. She grips the microphone with both hands, taking careful steps forward. "I would just like to thank everyone that took the time to come out see this show tonight. Especially all of my loyal fans. Rachel Berry would be nothing without you!" The crowd cheers wildly and Rachel just smiles, unable to continue speaking in mist of all the cheers. Her heart blossoms with love and pride for all the work she's done and all the appreciation she's received. They quiet down once again and she continues. "As you all may or may not know, I am with child. I have continued on with the show to the best of my ability, but there are only so many alterations a costume can go through."

The crowd laughs good-naturedly as Rachel glances backstage, sending a grateful wink to Sarah. "All of that being said, I will be taking my leave now. I would like to thank you all for your constant support, thank you to my talented cast, thank you to the theater for giving me a place to showcase my amazing talent. Thank you to my wife." She can swear she sees the blonde blush, but Quinn never takes those intense eyes off her. "Quinn," she murmurs fondly. "Thank you for memorizing lines with me, singing with me." She turns from Quinn to the numerous rows of seats. "Not many people know but Quinn has an amazing voice. A little sharp occasionally, but still amazing." She turns back to the blonde. "And thank you for showing constant support. I love you."

Her heart swells twice its size as she continues to stare at Rachel. She dabs her stinging eyes. "And I love you all!" Rachel says to her fans. "I _will _be back. That much I can promise. So, until then, I with the best of luck to my understudy, Rhonda. Kick some ass!"

Quinn laughs loudly at the uncharacteristic behavior as the crowd roars louder than before. Rachel takes her final bow as the curtain draws closed once again. Quinn gathers her cardigan and program, preparing to rush backstage.

"You coming?" Santana asks, her hand slipping in Brittany's.

She waves goodbye to Kurt and Mercedes, turning to her friends. "No. I'm meeting Rachel."

"Backstage sex. I approve."

"Not everything is about sex," she mutters. She winds through the throng of people, bypassing security with a polite smile as she walks backstage. No matter how many times they have to change Rachel's dressing room for whatever reason, Quinn is always able to find it with the big gold star across the front door being a dead giveaway. She opens the door and peers inside to find Rachel with her arms crossed around her middle, weeping silently. She looks on adoringly, walking inside and shutting the door. Rachel turns to her with a sad smile. "It's over."

"Only for now," Quinn promises. She steps forward and takes Rachel into her arms, wrapping around delicate shoulders as Rachel clings to her waist. She grasps the back of Quinn's blouse tightly, crying into her shoulder. "I was so tired all the time."

"I know. Every night you just passed out after a show. You could barely hold a conversation. Shockingly."

Rachel chuckles quietly. She turns her head to rest in the warmth of Quinn's neck, placing a gentle kiss there. "That was some speech you gave out there," Quinn whispers.

"Did you cry?"

"You probably wanted me to."

"Guilty," she jokes.

They continue to hold each other for as long as they can, pressing gentle kisses to any amount of skin they can reach. Finally, Rachel pulls back with a weary sigh. "My feet hurt," she whispers.

Quinn leans forward to kiss her on the lips. "Let's go home."

"Carry me?"

"How about we just hold hands?" Quinn suggests.

Rachel yawns sleepily, resting her head against Quinn's shoulder as the two of them walk out of her dressing room together. "Okay."

* * *

><p>"Morning sickness?"<p>

"Still awful."

"She gets them less frequently though."

Dr. Steinberg smiles at Rachel. "You should keep her around."

Quinn rolls her eyes and Rachel giggles. "Yes, she's very attentive. I couldn't ask for a better wifey." A faint blush touches pale cheeks as she lifts the magazine she's reading to cover her face and ignore the other two occupants in the room.

Dr. Steinberg looks down at her chart, ticking things off one by one. "Well, you're sixteen weeks along. So, I'd say any day now, any week now and your morning sickness should be nonexistent."

"Perfect." Rachel strokes her belly softly. The morning sickness was inconvenient to say the least but she can't help but think that once it's over she'll miss it. It was a way to connect to her child. Whatever Little Barbra or Little Michael loathed Rachel was instantly made aware of it. She felt so connected with the little baby growing inside of her. "Sixteen weeks," she sighs.

"Happy second trimester. How do you feel?"

"Like my body is too small to be carrying this watermelon around," she laughs.

"Not a watermelon yet," Dr. Steinberg warns. "Just wait until you reach your last three months."

Rachel groans quietly, pouting over at Quinn. And almost as if sensing it, Quinn looks up to see the well-practiced shiny doe-eyed look, and poked out bottom lip. She laughs. "You wanted a baby, Rach."

Rachel huffs. "Are you saying you didn't?"

"I'm just saying you did. I even offered to carry it but you insisted you had to."

"Well since you're saying you didn't want a baby, maybe I'll just take our baby and go elsewhere."

"Sure, do it. I'll just act like one of those cavemen, club you upside the head, and drag you back to the house."

"Hmph."

Dr. Steinberg shakes her head good-naturedly at the pair as she returns to her clipboard. Appointments always ran twice as long simply because the two of them spent half their time flirting with each other.

"How are your…urges? Not too much are they?"

Rachel colors slightly at the question, her eyes darting to Quinn then back to the doctor's before she answers. "Nothing too extreme. It's almost as if there hasn't been a change."

"She jumps me several times a day."

"Quinn!"

"Don't get shy now, Berry." Quinn turns to the doctor. "Even when I'm tired. Even when _she's _tired. It doesn't matter to her."

Rachel flushes hotly as Dr. Steinberg turns from Quinn back to her. "Teenage boy, yes?"

She nods her head guiltily.

Dr. Steinberg laughs. "Well, there's good news and bad news. Good news: it'll eventually go away. Bad news: not until after you've given birth and your hormone levels are able to regulate themselves again. And, Quinn?" She turns back around to the blonde. "I wish you luck. Take power naps when you can."

"I try," she grumbles. "Anytime I'm near a bed, she hops on top of me—"

"Quinn!" she yells again.

"Now you know how I feel during these appointments," she teases.

Rachel folds her arms across her chest as best she can over her stomach. It grows from week to week, much to Quinn's amazement. Every time there's a subtle change the blonde makes Rachel strip naked so she can draw her progressions from week to week. And, well…then Rachel jumps her. A win, win situation, really.

"How is the rest of your body holding up? Any aches or joint pains yet? And your breasts, do they still ache?"

"At times I have lower back pains. And my feet swell unflatteringly if I stay on them too long." She looks down at her chest. "My breasts seem to be getting bigger. Wouldn't you say, Quinn?"

Quinn nods mutely as she lifts the magazine to conceal her face again, suddenly shy.

"They don't hurt but they are very sensitive still."

"Okay, right on track," Dr. Steinberg mutters as she glances down at her clipboard. "They're going to continue to grow. As a matter of fact, I'd begin to invest in bigger bras. A B-cup isn't going to cut it for much longer. Also, while you're at it I'd buy some maternity clothes as well." She scrutinizes Rachel closely. "You're smaller than the average person would be around this time in your pregnancy, but you still need to be wearing maternity clothes."

"It's that time, isn't it?" Rachel grumbles.

Quinn glances up at her sullen tone. "Look at this way. We get to go shopping. You love that."

Rachel smiles beautifully at the blonde.

"Quinn, I'm about to get the ultrasound machine if you want to come over here."

"Do we find out today?" she asks hopefully.

Dr. Steinberg stands to walk to the door. "I hope so. Depends on whether or not your little bundle of joy is going to be nice to me and cooperate," she says with a wink.

"If the baby's Quinn's then you'll probably be given a hard time," Rachel jokes. Quinn smiles proudly at that as she strolls over to the brunette. "What can I say? Fabrays are a stubborn people."

"And you think that's charming?"

She nods. "It's a part of my charm."

Rachel begrudgingly agrees, reaching out to grab Quinn's hand, interlocking their fingers. "By the way, Kurt and Mercedes placed a bet," she says brightly.

"A bet on what?" Quinn inquires.

"The sex of the baby."

"Figures." Quinn pulls up a chair to sit down just as the doctor strolls in with the ultrasound machine. Quinn dutifully lifts Rachel's shirt above the swell of her stomach. The gel is applied and the scanner is placed gently against her stomach. "Alright," Dr. Steinberg begins, "here we go again."

"What should we be expecting?" Rachel asks.

"Well at sixteen weeks we're hopefully going to see a big head, some big ears."

"Sounds like Quinn," Rachel teases.

Quinn glares down at Rachel, touching her ears softly. "Does not," she grumbles.

"Oh, well this is interesting. Looks like our little person has an affinity for 'cameras'. Say hi, ladies."

Both women turn to the screen, eyes glued. Rachel's eyes widen as she takes in the baby's features. "Not 'camera' shy? Definitely Rachel's child," Quinn says. Rachel beams, fixated on the image on the ultrasound machine. "I can see features more distinctly this time."

Quinn looks at Rachel briefly. "What do you see?"

"Eyes, closed, of course. A button nose, lips. So cute," she squeals. Unable to help herself, Quinn leans over to place a kiss against her forehead, allowing that simple action to say all the things that seem to fly around her head but never make it out of her mouth.

Dr. Steinberg tunes in and out of their conversation as she tries as best she can to move the scanner around to get a different angle of the baby. "Well, Rachel, I think you were right. This baby, whatever the sex, is very stubborn."

"Sorry," Quinn mumbles with a smile. Rachel scoffs at the blonde's unapologetic tone.

They strike up a conversation while Dr. Steinberg attempts to manipulate the scanner and the baby into giving her a better angle. "What sex do you think our baby will be?"

"I want to say a boy for some reason," Quinn announces. "Though I hope not. My father will get his hands on him and never let him go."

"They would probably make the best golfing buddies."

"Oh, it doesn't matter if it's a girl or boy. My father _will_ make a golfer out of them. You remember how badly I kicked your ass when we went to Putt-Putt the first time," she gloats.

"And it was our first date too," she pouts. "How rude. You certainly did not make a good impression."

"Please. You've been charmed by me since the first moment you met me."

Rachel laughs loudly at that, as she does every time one of them brings up the first time they met each other. "You were…you were such a—"

"Asshole?" She raises her eyebrow. "That sentiment is mutual."

Her eyes narrow. "I was polite."

"Telling me to get lost was polite?" Quinn's thumb grazes the back of Rachel's hand.

Rachel gives the blonde's hand a gentle squeeze, a smile on her face. "If I remember correctly, you were just as rude."

"Nope. Don't believe so," she replies flippantly.

"However, you did manage to redeem your rather lack luster first impression," she says softly.

Quinn looks down at her. It had taken a while for Rachel to be able to recognize the love and adoration that now screams at her from Quinn's eyes. The little nuances such as how Quinn's mouth quirks upward, but hardly into a full smile, the way she continues to rub her thumb over the back of Rachel's hand. Little cues that were so subtle that someone so over the top such as Rachel had a hard time recognizing at first. But now that she does, she sees it all the time. Quinn doesn't reply, save the quirk of her lips, turning back to the ultrasound machine.

"Okay, guys, I have something. Or rather, the distinct _lack _of something," Dr. Steinberg mutters.

Rachel sits up suddenly. "Lack? Is it bad? What does our baby lack? A lung, a kidney, giant Quinn ears?"

"A penis," the doctor replies flatly.

They both freeze. "Y-you mean…" Quinn trails off in awe. "It –she's a girl?"

"We have a girl," Rachel whispers.

Quinn crushes her in a tight hug. Rachel wraps her arms around the blonde as best she can. Kisses are rained down on her entire face as Quinn mumbles "Thank you" against her flesh over and over again. Tears well in Rachel's eyes before splashing against her cheeks, each one of them being kissed away by Quinn. She pulls back to look Rachel in the eye. "We're having a girl." Rachel bites her lip, nodding with a quiet whimper.

"I'll give you two a minute while I print off pictures," Dr. Steinberg whispers as she quietly walks to the door.

"Thirty pictures!" Rachel calls. She turns back to Quinn, kissing her wordlessly.

* * *

><p>"I think we should invite Jesse."<p>

"To what?"

"To the family cookout when we tell everyone."

That catches Rachel's attention. She turns onto her back to find Quinn at her vanity. She's pushing blonde hair back behind her ear to inspect her neck. "Told you not to leave hickies," she grumbles.

Rachel smirks, proud of her handiwork. "But, Quinn, Jesse –he's not family."

"Sure he is." She turns around to face Rachel, walking back to the bed. "He's the donor and, well…the father."

She eyes her suspiciously. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing!" Quinn says emphatically with wide innocent hazel eyes. And despite herself, Rachel melts at the sight of the seemingly guiltless blonde. Quinn slides under the covers, propped up on her elbow to face Rachel, the brunette mimicking her action.

"Regardless, Quinn, you shouldn't have to spend more time around him than necessary if it makes you uncomfortable." She reaches out to stroke the purpling bruise on the side of Quinn's neck.

"Nonsense. He's your friend. He should be invited." She flashes a sickeningly sweet smile. Rachel instantly calls bullshit.

"Quinn, what are you really planning?"

She sighs loudly, turning to lie on her back. She rests her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. "Rachel…this is real," she murmurs. "A couple weeks ago I could still act hostile towards Jesse and it was fine, acceptable. But…you're getting closer to the halfway mark, closer to delivering." She turns to face Rachel. "I don't want to fight with Jesse forever. I don't want it to be awkward for our little girl. Because she's going to love the both of us and I don't want her to have to choose between me and Jesse because I'm too immature to get my shit together."

Rachel's eyes mist over as she regards the blonde. Quinn groans quietly. "Please don't cry again."

"I won't," she promises. She scoots closer on the bed, into Quinn's arms. Their lips meet gently. Quinn tilts her head, her lips sliding against the soft ones attached to her own. Rachel sighs quietly. She parts her lips and drags her tongue across the blonde's bottom lip. Instantly granted access, her tongue slips inside Quinn's hot mouth, swallowing the moan that vibrates between them.

Quinn pulls back just as Rachel clutches at her shoulder. "We just finished," she murmurs against Rachel's lips.

She grins cheekily, pulling back fully. "We can go again."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "_You _can go again. I'm tired. I have to get up at six to get to work early. And I have to get off late. I need rest. And it's already," she glances at the clock on their headboard, "shit, Rachel, it's twelve."

"Language."

"Sleep."

She pulls Rachel closer to her, lying on her back once more. Rachel curls tightly against her side as best she can, her head on Quinn's shoulder. "I love you, Q," Rachel murmurs sleepily. Quinn kisses the top of her head. "I love you, too." She yawns quietly, wrapping her arm around Quinn's waist.

Instead of lulling her to sleep, the sound of Rachel's even breathing only pushes Quinn deeper into thought. Thoughts of Rachel and their baby, thoughts of work. She's going to have to work more shifts to compensate for Rachel no longer performing shows. Which means she'll have to see her boss more often. She bites her lip in contemplation. She hates to admit it, but Santana was right. She never really had a good track record with relationships, but that was because she never knew what she wanted. And then there was high school and social pressures; she was top dog and needed to roll with the tide. Quaterbacks at times changed from season to season and she had to keep up with that to keep up with her popularity.

Quinn chuckles darkly. Oh, how shallow she used to be. But that was then. This is now. And now she quite literally has all the wants and needs right in her arms. And she doesn't plan on letting it go. Not for Jesse, not for Wanda, anyone.

She gently guides Rachel onto her back, shimmying down the bed to get level with her belly. Rachel whines slightly in her sleep, probably from the lack of warmth and Quinn smiles fondly. Her palm presses flat against Rachel's belly, cheeks burning with the knowledge of what she's about to do. She doesn't quite know how to proceed. Her brow furrows in confused concentration. She looks back up to see Rachel still asleep. Taking a deep breath, she decides to go for it. "Umm…hi," she whispers softly. "I'm Quinn. Your mother. Well, one of them."

She internally face palms at how awkward she's being. Rachel shifts slightly in her sleep and Quinn's eyes widen in panic. She looks back up to see her still sleeping. Looking back down at her palm across Rachel's belly, the one thin layer separating her from her child, she decides to hurry and continue. "I know you're going to look like me. And Jesse, I guess. But I really hope you're like Rachel. She's," her mouth opens and closes, at a loss for words. "She's amazing. Incredible, really. Don't be like me; be like her because she is so much better than anyone out there." Her thumb rubs Rachel's belly fondly. The words keep flowing from her mouth unfiltered and she hasn't the slightest desire to stop. "She lets me get away with a lot without really letting me get away with anything. She allows me to be this giant ass sometimes but she's always the first to call me down when I go too far." A tear falls down her cheek softly. "I can be anything. For the first time in my life, I can be anything I want and no one judges me for it. So, be like your mother. She's perfect. She's so, so—"

"Quinn?" Rachel says groggily.

Quinn quickly wipes the tear off her face, looking up at Rachel. She bites her lip guiltily. "Hey."

"Baby, what are you doing?" she slurs.

"I –uh…I was talking to the baby," she says sheepishly.

Rachel smiles sleepily down at her. She brings a hand up to gently cup the back of Quinn's head. "Were the two of you having a private conversation without me?"

Quinn's lips quirk. "She already says I'm her favorite parent."

"That's hardly –whoa…"

"What's wrong?" Quinn asks, alarmed. She already has one foot off the bed, prepared for what, she isn't sure, but she's prepared.

"Feel here." Rachel grabs Quinn's hand and places it low on her womb. "Speak again."

"What do you want me to—"

"There!" she says excitedly. "Keep talking."

"What do I say? What am I even feeling?" Quinn asks confusedly.

"The baby's kicking," she says quickly. "Keep talking to her."

"Umm…" Quinn wracks her brain, trying to overcome her embarrassment of having Rachel watch her speak to their child. She leans down to place her lips a hairsbreadth away from Rachel's belly. "We can't wait to see you," she murmurs. "I bet you're going to be so much like Rachel and I can't wait –wow." She feels the slightest pressure against her palm. Her jaw drops and she looks to her wife for confirmation. Rachel nods her head. "She likes you."

Quinn leans down to kiss Rachel's stomach softly. "I love you," she whispers to both occupants in the room.

"Come to bed, Quinn," she whispers. The weary blonde crawls back up to the waiting arms of her wife.

* * *

><p>After a couple days of strained awkwardness after her tiff with Santana, the two continued on with their friendship uninterrupted. By now, weeks later everything is back to normal. It's how they work, how they've always worked. One would say something that completely crossed the line, more than likely Santana but Quinn's said her fair share, they'd argue—sometimes threaten to kick each other's asses, again, mostly on Santana's part. But in the end, they found it hard to do without each other. No one understood Quinn's bitchiness like Santana and vice versa. Their relationship was a constant power struggle but one that neither would admit they both got a kick out of.<p>

"Coffee machine's broken," Santana mutters, slamming Quinn's office door shut. She plops down in her seat, propping her legs onto the arm rest and swiping the magazine she brought off the floor to read.

Quinn hangs up the phone, looking pointedly at Santana. "Funny because when I had to make my own about an hour earlier before you arrived, it _was _working."

Santana shrugs flippantly. "Well, it's not now."

"I'm sure," she says dryly. Her finger glides gently along the lip of her coffee mug, wishing she had a little pick-me-up since she's going to be working late hours. Rachel suddenly enters her mind as she wonders if her wife's only had one cup of coffee today like her gynecologist ordered or if she decided to be daring and drink two. She smiles. "Hey, Santana."

"What?"

Her smile turns devious at her friend's lack luster reply. Time to tease. "I know the sex of the baby."

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling you."

That gathers Santana's attention. She lowers her magazine to sneer at Quinn. "You better tell me."

"Nah."

"Q."

"Yeah?"

She throws the magazine down roughly. "Tell me! Is it a boy? Am I going to have to teach him the outer and inner," she smirks, "workings of a girl? Or is it a girl? Am I going to have to teach her the outer and…outer workings of a boy?"

Quinn looks absolutely repulsed by the idea. "There is no way I'd ever allow you to give my daughter advice about men."

"Daughter?" And in the twenty years Quinn's known her, she's never seen Santana look quite like this. So…compassionate, her face completely lit up.

"Daughter," she confirms eagerly.

"How's the dwarf taking it? I'm sure she's shitting herself with excitement."

"_Rachel_," she replies tightly, "is doing just fine. She's excited, of course. She's making us shop as soon as possible. Says she wants to buy things in moderation so we can draw the shopping process out until delivery."

"Need B and I to get you anything?"

"I'm sure once Rachel gets over the shock she'll write a list out of things the baby needs. Right now we just need to shop for maternity clothes for her."

"Damn. I'm going to have a god-daughter. We're getting old, Q."

Quinn groans at the mere thought, rubbing a hand over her face. "Don't remind me. I'm not ready for adulthood and parenting and being responsible for someone else's life."

"Yeah, you are," Santana says softly. "Hell, you've been responsible for my life for years. You think I ever listened to my parent's advice? Hell no. You, on the other hand…"

"You took my advice?"

She nods. "I didn't go down on that Abby chick after you found out she had the clap, did I?"

Quinn laughs at the memory. That one was one of the many close calls in their individual sex lives. Santana had been seeing Abby on an off for all of a week before she decided she was ready to have sex with her. While in the locker room after cheering practice, where gossip was bred, Quinn had overheard from one of the older cheerleaders that the blonde Santana was after had contracted gonorrhea from one of their top ranked football players. Quinn had quickly ran into the showers to warn her friend of the news and although Santana had told her to fuck off in embarrassed rage, she later came back to tell the blonde she didn't go through with it and that Abby, in fact, did have gonorrhea.

"She got around. More so than you," Quinn teases.

"More so than _you_," Santana fires back.

Quinn smirks. "Yeah, well, seems like we've both settled down though. You're not a whore anymore and, for once, I know what I want. I _have_ what I want."

"I wasn't a whore," she grumbles.

"You weren't chaste."

"Hypocrite much?"

"I only had sex one time in high school!"

"And if it wasn't for me, your ass would have been pregnant." She laughs, pointing at Quinn. "You didn't even _know_ what a condom was!"

"Yes, I did!" she defends. "I took sex educat—wait. No, I didn't."

"No. You didn't." She laughs even harder.

"Shut up."

The phone chirps once and Quinn glances at the caller I.D. to check the extension. Her face draws closed and Santana's head tilts with curiosity. Quinn presses the speaker phone button. "Hi, Wanda."

"_Hey, Quinn. I was wondering if you could swing by my office_."

She ignores the pointed look Santana sends her; gaze firmly locked on her phone. "I can't. I have a lot of calls to make, then I have to call Kathy again because she can never crunch numbers correctly."

"_I can come by your office_," she suggests. Santana snickers quietly in the corner. Quinn rubs the back of her neck in exhaustion. Can she really stand to work another seven hours? "_I need the number of a Roger Wilfack and I know you have the file. So, if you can't bring it to my office, I can just come to yours_."

"What is this, a sex hotline?" Santana mutters. "Why does her voice sound like that?"

Ignored again. "Sure, you can stop by to get the file."

"_Great, I'll be right over_."

She presses the speaker button again, dropping the call. She absentmindedly twirls her wedding band on her finger as she contemplates her predicament.

"Are you going to keep being stupid? Because it's going to cost you Rachel and your baby girl."

Her whole demeanor ices over in a matter of seconds. "Don't ever joke like that."

"Who's joking?"

"I'm not having this discussion. I know how you feel about the situation and I don't need to hear about it again."

Santana opens her mouth to speak but a knock at the door interrupts her. "Come in," Quinn demands.

Wanda strolls into her office wearing the shortest skirt Quinn's ever seen her in and a black see through blouse. Her hair sweeps across her shoulders in dazzling waves, expensive glasses framing her face. "It's good to see you, Quinn."

She says nothing, whips out the card with Roger's number on it and hands it to Wanda. "Also," the brunette begins. "I was wondering if I could interest you in something."

Finally, Quinn's eyes slide over her. She allows herself to take in the whole package and is, decidedly, unimpressed. "Honestly, Wanda, if what you're offering doesn't include me working more hours to get more money then I'm uninterested."

Santana fist pumps proudly behind Wanda.

"And what if it does?" Santana rolls her eyes. How predictable was she going to get?

"I'm listening."

"How do you feel about a raise?"

Her eyebrow arches. "The same way any hard working individual should. Any bonus is a bonus."

Wanda nods. "More money, same amount of hours."

She leans forward on her desk, a pen dangled precariously between her fingers. "Sounds like something I'd be interested in."

Wanda walks closer until she's leaned over Quinn's desk. Her breasts jut out, just inches from the blonde's face. "What do you say to…going out and having a few drinks after work to discuss your raise? It'll be a good way to put away the pressures of work and simply talk about the job stress free."

Quinn lurches back into the cushions of her seat as if she's been stung. She takes a deep breath, looking past Wanda. "Santana?"

"Yeah, Q?"

"I need a cup of coffee."

The next thing she sees is Santana standing off towards the side, behind Wanda. She gives the blonde a hard look. "Quinn, I've already told you the coffee machine was broken."

The unspoken message is clear so Quinn decides on a more direct approach. "Santana, please leave my office," she says calmly.

Santana swivels around and out the door without a backwards glance. Without a second to waste, Quinn turns hard eyes to Wanda. "I'm not going out for drinks with you tonight."

Her lips turn down, the small pout reminding the blonde of a certain someone. "Why not?"

She stands, looking at the other woman across her desk. "Because I'm married. And my wife is having my baby."

"I wasn't suggesting—"

"You were. And you've been suggesting it for a while. I've only recently picked up on it." She leaves out the part that Santana brought it to her attention, not wanting to incriminate her best friend and get her in trouble by her boss and possibly fired later for who knows what. Quinn mentally berates herself. How oblivious can one person be? If Santana hadn't have brought it to her attention, would she have fallen for this ruse?

Wanda looks puzzled, positively confused in a way that makes Quinn briefly question whether or not Santana was pranking the hell out of her. "I –I was just offering a girl's night out. To drink, chat, and talk about your raise."

Quinn doesn't even kid herself, the mention of alcohol immediately reminding her of how lowered her inhibitions become when she's under the influence. When she's not angry while drunk, she's very, very affectionate. Rachel had always laughed at that little tidbit of knowledge. Especially during the blonde's twenty-first birthday when she was legal enough to get wasted. Santana threw a little party for her. She had drank until her heart was content. Every few minutes she was trying to seduce Rachel out of her pants and Rachel would just giggle, telling the blonde she refused to take advantage of her while she was drunk. The night ended with Quinn stripping naked in her room and lying on top of Rachel. Then…she had promptly fallen asleep. To this day, Rachel refuses to let her live it down.

Her thoughts conclude and she rubs her hands together before clasping them in frustration. "I'm going to say this one time. I am uninterested. I'm _married_. I have a wife, I have a child and that's all I need. Please respect what I have. Furthermore, I will not be going out with you tonight for drinks or any other night for that matter."

Wanda averts her gaze. Her jaw clenches tightly. "I understand. Have a good day, Quinn." She watches the other woman walk out of her office, no doubt taking the possibility of a raise with her. Quinn's frustration mounts as she wonders what could have been. Having a few drinks with her boss, sealing the deal of her new raise, and going home to Rachel, no vows broken, fidelity intact. It would have put more money in her pocket for their baby, the mortgage. She tosses the thought away. Perhaps the right decision was made.

Seconds later Santana back inside her door, slamming it shut. "What the hell just happened?"

Quinn returns to her chair, reclining in it with a sigh. "I told her I wasn't interested and I wasn't going out with her."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she growls. "I'm not going to cheat on Rachel, so back off."

"Just making sure." She looks back toward the door as if she expects Wanda to burst back in at any second. "Do I need to tell her to back off the 'Santana Lopez' way?"

"I got it, San. Thanks."

"Just looking out for you."

Quinn looks up at her best friend with a warm smile. "You always do. In some really twisted and fucked up way that only you understand half the time, you always do."


	7. The Reveal

**Title: **Unexpected Expectancies

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **NC-17

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **"But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's her biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty."

**A/N: **It took me a tad longer to get this one out than I intended because I was a little under the weather for a couple days. But it's here now! There are probably a lot of spelling errors; this chapter is longer than I thought it'd be. I'm thinking about 2-3 more chapters should tie this story up nicely, so I hope you all hang in there with me. :)

* * *

><p><em>The Reveal<em>

Quinn doesn't even fight the grin that blossoms across her face at the sight that greets her. Rachel lying on _her_ side of the bed asleep—ironically curled in the best fetal position she can muster considering her current state. This is the third time Quinn has had to come to their room to wake Rachel up but despite her exasperation, she can't help but pity her poor wife.

Her feet pad softly against the hardwood floor as she stalks closer to the bed. She sits toward the edge of Rachel's side since her side is occupied, careful not to be too close to Rachel for fear that if she got to close, she'd end up curled around her wife and they'd both spend the entire day spooning. That can wait. Today is important, possibly the most important day of her pregnancy thus far and everything needs to run as smoothly as possible.

"Rach," she whispers softly, lightly shaking the shoulder presented to her. "Baby, it's time to get up."

A muffled "no" is grumbled past Rachel's lips as she desperately tries to cling to sleep. But Quinn doesn't relent, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "I know you're tired, but you need to get up." She's ignored again as the soothing tone of her voice lulls Rachel back to sleep.

Nothing but the sound of Rachel's even breathing can be heard. Quinn growls lowly in frustration. She looks over to the clock on the nightstand—not a lot of time left. Deciding on a different tactic, she slides further onto the bed, behind the slumbering brunette.

Rachel shifts in her sleep against the sudden onslaught of a pair of warm lips against her neck and a slim arm wrapping around her waist. She sinks back into the protective embrace, vaguely registering a quiet giggle behind her. A delicate hand strokes her protruding belly softly. The warm lips continue blazing a trail down her neck and she groans, unable to ignore her intruder anymore. "Quinn."

"Hmm?"

The lips become more insistent, more frequent. Rachel squirms in the blonde's hold, finally turning around to face her. Quinn's gleaming smile greets her. "Oh, good. You're awake."

"Quinn," she whines piteously. "I'm with child. Half of my admittedly commendable amount of energy goes to incubating our perfect daughter and you cannot fault me for indulging in power naps every now and again."

The woe-is-me pout on her face almost does Quinn in. Almost. Her thumb reaches out to run along Rachel's forehead, soothing her annoyed, furrowed brow. Quinn's smile turns mischievous. "My family will be here in an hour and you have three pairs of panties and a black thong air drying in the bathroom."

Rachel's jaw drops. "I –what? But –but that's _our _bathroom."

"You know my mother. She enjoys 'appraising' various areas of the house whenever she visits. Our private bathroom never escapes her prying eyes."

She sinks back into the covers with a resigned sigh. Quinn's right. Visits from the Fabray clan are never complete until Judy critiques every inch of their living quarters. "They will be arriving soon?" she groans.

Quinn nods. "An hour. And Leroy and Hiram are about, oh," she pretends to think, "thirty-six and half minutes away. At least that's what Hiram told me when I last spoke with him."

"And when did you last speak with him?" Rachel asks, eyes wide as saucers.

"Twenty minutes ago."

"Qui—" She doesn't even finish saying the blonde's name before she's quickly hopping out of bed. "What should I wear?"

Hazel eyes intently track Rachel's movements. She's currently wearing one of Quinn's Cheerios t-shirts she used to wear to run the track in college and a pair of—she tilts her head for a better look—beige lace panties. "Umm…"

She looks over her shoulder to find Quinn looking rather distracted. A proud smile touches her lips. There are still nagging thoughts in the back of her mind that tell her that just maybe, Quinn might not be attracted to her considering her small but ever expanding stomach. But moments like these prove far beyond the blonde's own words that Quinn is just as much attracted to her now as she's always been. "Quinn?" she inquires teasingly.

"Huh?"

"I asked you a question."

Reluctantly, she tears her eyes away from the smooth expanse of tan legs to meet Rachel's eyes. "What is it?"

"What should I wear?"

"Oh." Her eyes scan Rachel again, trying not to get stuck in tempting places once more. "Depends."

"On?"

Quinn slides off the bed as well, catching the time on the clock as she ventures into the bathroom. "Well, if you want to show off your stomach, then maybe one of your maternity shirts. If you want to hide it, and surprise them with it later, then wear a bigger and looser shirt."

She returns a moment later, sauntering over to Rachel and placing an array of multi-colored underwear into her hand. "On second thought," she muses as she looks down at Rachel, "I don't think you'll be able to hide it much. Once anyone hugs you they'll know."

"Perhaps." She leans up to place a kiss against Quinn's nose. "We should discuss names tonight!" Quinn discretely reaches up to massage her ringing ears as Rachel places the undergarments in her drawer. Rachel turns back to her. "I've compiled the names that you don't hate into one list."

Her eyebrow arches curiously. "How many names are on that list?"

"Forty-seven."

"Rachel," she groans. "Forty-seven names?"

"I simply wanted to offer a substantial assortment of choices for the two of us to comb through together and—"

"Take Barbra off."

"Quinn!"

"And Joan."

"H –her middle name? Well, why don't you just strike me down where I stand if you aren't even going to give those two very iconic, dignified names—"

Quinn quickly leans down to kiss her. Her tongue dips inside and as soon as it curls to brush the roof of Rachel's mouth, the brunette goes limp in her arms. She pulls back with a smirk, regarding Rachel's flushed face. "We can talk about it tonight. But right now? I need to finish preparing the food and you need to get dressed because your fathers are going to be here—"

The doorbell rings followed by three formal knocks. Rachel groans quietly. "They're here already? I can't get dressed quickly now. Why wasn't I woken up earlier?"

Quinn's eyes narrow. "I woke you up to get dressed about ten times," she deadpans.

"That's a gross exaggeration, Quinn."

"Well, I'm dressed," she gloats. Dark eyes roam over the lithe body before and, yes. Quinn is definitely dressed. Rachel licks her lips. A tan summer dress that hugs tight against her breasts and torso but loosens to flow toward her hips. It ends just below her knees and Rachel's head tilts a little to the side, as if she'd be able to see under it. Her gaze runs back along the blonde's body to her eyes once more. "Do I even need to tell you how beautiful you look?"

"It can't hurt," Quinn whispers, biting her lip.

"You're beautiful," she says with a playful eye roll. "Absolutely gorgeous, stunning, flawless. Shall I continue?"

The knocking on the door is more insistent and Rachel's eyes widen. "We forgot they were out there. Dad isn't going to be very happy. He seems to think the heat will always melt him."

"Like you?" she quips. She places a quick kiss to Rachel's lips, walking around her to the bedroom door. "Get dressed. I'll stall them for as long as I can."

She quickly descends the flight of stairs, stopping at the heavy wooden door before her. Gazing through the peephole, she grins at the first sight of Mr. & Mr. Berry. The door swings open and she's greeted with a smile from one and chagrin from the other.

"Quinn! How long has it been?" Leroy asks. He passes the threshold to envelope the blonde with long, protective arms. "You'd think we'd see more of each other considering we live in the same state." She hugs him tightly, the smell of cologne permeating her senses. She'd missed him. Both of them.

"Alright, honey, I know Quinn is your favorite but you need to share her," Hiram chirps with a pout in his voice. Sometimes it's hard for the blonde to decide which of her fathers Rachel takes after the most. She certainly has Hiram's mannerisms but she also has a subtle, quiet strength that Leroy possesses.

Quinn goes straight from Leroy's arms to Hiram's. He smothers her with loving arms and she sighs contentedly. It was touch and go for a while with the two of them. The very first impression he ever had of Quinn was her being the one to make his daughter cry hard enough that he and Leroy had to drive hours to NYU just to make sure she was okay. Afterwards Quinn was able to apologize to everyone and though Hiram seemed to forgive her and act civil towards her, it wasn't until about month before the wedding that Hiram was actually able to fully forgive her. It was a long face to face conversation that entailed Quinn swearing on her life to make Rachel happy until the day she died. And so far, she's holding up her oath just fine.

"How have the two of you been?" she asks in an attempt to stall. She gestures vaguely to the couches in the room and the two Berry men have a seat.

"I've been well. My partner was just reinstated and I now feel a lot safer knowing that she has my back. Been working with her for over ten years, you know."

Quinn looks mildly disturbed. "Wasn't she the one that was discovered to be a hardcore drug user?"

"Yes," Hiram replies firmly. "Almost allowed my Leroy to be shot in the shoulder because she was so strung out with withdrawal symptoms."

"Now that is not at all how it happened," Leroy replies, aghast.

She smiles fondly at the pair, being reminded of her and Rachel. The Berrys were more of a family than hers had ever been. Whenever Quinn needed something she always went to them before her own parents.

"Then please, enlighten us all. What happened?"

"She got…distracted."

"Hiram!" Quinn pipes up with a laugh to avoid an argument. They really _are_ like her and Rachel. "How is your spice garden?"

He brightens at the mere mention of his newly acquired hobby. "Wonderful! I've been dying to get down here to start one with Rachel because she always sounds so interested over the phone. But every time I've made plans to come down here, she's turned me down."

Quinn swallows the lump of guilt in her throat at the frown marring Hiram's features. "She's just been really busy," she reassures. "You know Rachel. She eats, sleeps and breathes Broadway. But she's very glad you guys are here."

"Speaking of my daughter…" Hiram begins to crane his neck to and fro in search of her and Leroy follows his actions a moment later. "Where is she?"

"Umm…well, she's getting dressed right now. But she should be down—"

"Right now," Rachel sing-songs as she comes around the corner. All three occupants in the room turn to see her just as she walks into the room. Leroy's breath hitches and Hiram clutches his chest at the sight. Quinn smiles proudly at the sight of Rachel in one of her white, sleeveless maternity blouses, a pair of jeans and flats, looking absolutely beautiful.

"Quinn…" Leroy whispers as he slowly lifts from the couch, almost as if the sight of Rachel would disappear before him. "What have you done to my baby?"

She panics mildly, choosing to keep her seat as the two men move over to Rachel.

Hiram's eyes widen more and more with each step. "It looks like our baby is having a baby, Leroy."

They both carefully mold themselves around Rachel to hug her, afraid to break her. "Hi, dad, daddy," she whispers. "I've missed you both so terribly."

"Why did you keep us away for so long?" A tear escapes Hiram's eyes as he watches Rachel place a protective hand over her stomach. Her dark eyes lock with terrified hazel. She smiles calmly at Quinn to diffuse the tension oozing off the blonde. Quinn can't help but think that deciding not to tell their families was a bad idea.

Rachel focuses her attention back on her fathers. "How about we all sit down? This could be a long discussion."

The two men shuffle backwards as Rachel carefully extricates herself. She walks over to Quinn, sitting closely beside her and grabbing her hand. Hiram and Leroy sit on the opposite couch, their eyes glued on the couple.

"What –what's happened these past few months?" Leroy asks as calmly as he can, his head spinning with thoughts.

Rachel clears her throat, sitting up straighter in her seat. "Quinn and I conceived through in vitro fertilization. It is one of the more risky methods of conception so there was never a guarantee that I would conceive."

She pauses to allow that little piece of information to get through before continuing. "It took three times for me to finally conceive and when I did, there was no guarantee that I was going to be able to…keep the fetus."

"What do you mean?" Hiram asks.

"Spontaneous miscarriages was a worry for me given the way we conceived. I asked Quinn if we could keep the baby a secret for a few months until the baby was developed enough to function independently thus making a miscarriage less likely. That's why it took so long for me to tell you guys."

Leroy looks to Hiram as the two men absorb the information given to them. Their daughter, their baby girl. The same girl whose diapers they used to change is now going to be changing diapers. "How far along are you?" Hiram asks softly.

She smiles. "Twenty-one weeks."

"And is it a girl or a boy?"

"A baby girl."

"Quinn," Hiram states, "have you been taking care of my baby?"

Quinn nods emphatically. "Yes, sir. Cravings, aversions, midnight runs to the market for vegan ice cream, I've done it all."

"Good."

"A girl," Leroy says in awe. "I'm going to be a grandfather. I'm not sure if I'm ready." He makes a face a moment later before asking, "Who's the fath –uh, donor?"

Quinn's face scrunches up. "Jesse St. James," Rachel answers. "Melchior from _Spring Awakening_. He and I developed a friendship after being in close quarters during the play that it was only natural to ask—"

She's cut off by the boisterous sounds of Leroy laughing. His head rods back in humor that only he seems to understand. Rachel and Hiram look on curiously while Quinn sulks a little. Leroy smiles at the blonde. "How did Rachel ever get you to agree to that?"

Rachel chews on her lower lip, a touch amused as Quinn huffs beside her. She leans over to place a placating kiss on the blonde's cheek. "Quinn is very understanding."

"_Very_ understanding," he quips.

"Indeed," Quinn finally replies.

"Is she healthy?" Hiram asks. "You and the baby, are you both okay?"

"We're very healthy, dad," she assures. "Everything is right on schedule. My stomach is admittedly a little small, but that's probably just because the baby is small."

"Well, this is just exciting!" he exclaims. Quinn breathes a sigh of relief. He and Rachel go back and forth in conversation and she uses that moment to politely excuse herself to finish preparing dinner.

She enters the kitchen, tucking a loose lock for hair behind her ear as she gathers materials from the refrigerator. She spreads them out on the counter, grabbing the bread to her left. She hears heavy footsteps behind her, already knowing who it is. Her _other _favorite Berry.

"Whatcha got there?" Leroy asks as he takes a seat at the small table in the kitchen.

"Hummus," Quinn murmurs distractedly. "Rachel's been on a sandwich kick lately."

She hears a small chuckle behind her. "You really love her, don't you?"

"She kind of doesn't give me a choice."

Leroy nods. "She didn't give us a choice either. As soon as Hiram and I saw her, we were hooked."

"Same here," Quinn admits.

"If you don't mind me asking, where did the Jesse thing come from? From what I remember you were never too fond of him and there are sperm banks everywhere, so a donor shouldn't have been an issue."

Quinn sighs quietly, turning around to face Leroy. She methodically crosses her arms as she leans back against the counter, crossing one leg over the other. "Rachel still has issues with Shelby as I'm sure you know."

Leroy offers a sympathetic nod.

"She doesn't want our baby to go through that," Quinn continues. "She told me of all the times she's cried—I've seen her cry first hand because of Shelby, hell _I've _made her cry because of Shelby," she says regretfully. "If I can keep my daughter from wondering who her donor is and scouring the country for her father, only to be disappointed in the end then I'll do whatever it takes. If I can keep my daughter from crying over at least one thing in her life, then I'll do it."

"Quinn, that is very admirable of you. It speaks to your character."

Small shoulders shrug modestly as she looks toward Leroy. "I'm not that admirable. I've been on Jesse's case more than usual for the past several months. But I'm hoping to rectify that today."

"I…" she pauses, trying to find the right words. "I love my daughter more than anything already. It's…weird. Loving someone you've never met, being willing to risk any and everything, even your own life for someone you've never even seen before." She takes a deep breath and turns back around to finish the sandwich, figuring her parents have to be close by now.

Leroy stands and strides over to her easily. He places a warm hand on her shoulder. Hazel eyes meet dark brown. They share a smile. She's once again enveloped in his warm arms. "It's the parent syndrome," he says softly. "And you're going to be a superb mother. You both will. I could not have asked for anyone better to marry my daughter and I mean that."

"And I couldn't have asked for anyone better to marry. Seriously. I never thought I was going to get married. Don't tell Rachel though."

"It's not anything I haven't heard before," Rachel says playfully as she walks into the kitchen, Hiram behind her. "Is that my sandwich!"

She makes a bee line for the sandwich on the counter, only to have the blonde block her path just as she closes in on it. "No one's eating right now, including you."

A 'whipped' sound is heard behind her and Rachel's shoulders tense as she turns around to find her father grinning cheekily at her. Her cheeks darken. "I am not! I will eat that sandwich if I want to!"

"You will not," Quinn replies.

Rachel whips around to face Quinn again. Her bottom lip pokes out. "Baby…"

"If you want to help move things along so that by the time my parents get here we can all eat, then you can help take the desserts outside. Without eating them."

There's a quiet whimper, but she slinks over to the table to grab a dessert. Leroy makes the whipped sound again as he grabs a dish, handing another to Hiram.

"Daddy!"

"Yes, Rach?"

"I am not whipped!"

"Whatever you say, dear." He winks at Quinn discretely, following his daughter outside. Hiram and Quinn bring up the rear. Once outside, she directs the group to a long, wooden picnic table to place everything on.

"Rachel, my granddaughter is going to love all of this backyard space," Hiram comments as he gazes over the land appreciatively.

Leroy places his dish down to run his eyes over the lush, green backyard. "Have you guys thought of a name?"

"Not yet, daddy. She's Little Barbra for now," Rachel says, scowling at the blonde for making fake gagging noises.

"This is all so new and sudden. I don't think it's going to sink in until Hiram and I make the drive back home."

"You've been telling me to give you grandchildren for over two years now."

"Well, yeah, but that's just something I assumed all parents said once their children got older. I didn't expect you to actually have children. That's almost like, I don't know, confirming for me that the two of you get…intimate."

Pink touches Quinn's cheeks as she moves a little further down the table to avoid the conversation.

"Well, daddy, Quinn and I _are_ intimate. What would you expect us to do—not engage in intercourse?"

Her phone rings and she thanks quite literally _everything _for the call. "Hello?" she says once the phone's attached to her ear.

Leroy's nose crinkles. "I just—need to not know about your intercourse."

"We both need not know," Hiram chimes in.

"Yes. I'll be right there, mom." She hangs up the call, turning to everyone. "My parents are here. They're stuck at the front door, so I'm just going to let them in. I hope this conversation will be over by the time I return," she grumbles. Rachel amusedly doesn't miss the small blush on Quinn's cheeks as the blonde walks pass.

She quickly enters the house, walking through the kitchen, dining room, and living room to the front door. She opens it wide, stepping aside as her parents walk in.

"Quinnie," her mother calls affectionately. Judy wraps her arms around her youngest daughter as soon as she passes the threshold. "You look lovely, dear. A little on the thin side though."

"I'm fine, mom." She rolls her eyes.

"Lucy!"

Quinn's head whips to the left to find her older sister, Frannie, walking inside. "Francine," she says cooly.

She takes in her sister's appearance. Dirty blonde hair pulled elegantly back, much like their mother's. A tight tank top to show off her midriff and skinny jeans, her outfit suggesting that since the kids and husband are away, she gets to play. "Aww, don't be like that, Quinn. Give your big sis some love."

They hug, a rush of memories flooding over Quinn like they do almost every she has contact with her sister. They don't see each other often, don't speak to each other often. It was a Fabray thing. The family isn't very close. The only gatherings they have are around holidays and when they do meet, it's nothing but a show. Each extended family member bragging on their successes, their large families, their lucrative business endeavors. But Frannie was different. Quinn always felt that way. Her sister was wildly affectionate whenever they saw each other. Something she got from their mother's side of the family.

The older Fabray stands just a smidge taller than Quinn and ever since she was thirteen, Frannie never let her forget it. "It's good to see you."

Quinn's arms wrap around her tentatively. "You too," she murmurs.

"Alright, Frannie, let an old man get inside, would you? It's scalding out here."

"He's so dramatic," she whispers playfully into Quinn's ear.

Quinn nods with a grin as her sister pulls away, allowing Russell entry. "Quinn," he mutters. To anyone else's ears the utterance would sound stand offish or aloof, but Quinn knows better.

"Hello, dad."

They share a hug with moderate awkwardness before Quinn leads them all to the backyard. Rachel stands from her seat at the table to turn to them just as they step outside and three pairs of eyes look on in shock, one pair nervous once again.

Russell is the first to speak. "She's pregnant."

"Wow," is all Frannie manages to get out.

"Oh, this is wonderful!" Judy walks over to Rachel briskly, taking the younger woman into her arms. "Congratulations to the both of you!" she exclaims, giving her a gentle squeeze. "And Leroy and Hiram are here—it's been too long!"

"Years," Leroy agrees with mock outrage. "You'd think our children were trying to keep us apart." He and Hiram walk over to hug Judy, hugging Frannie and shaking hands with Russell once they make their way over.

"Congratulations, Rachel," Frannie says with a grin as she hugs her sister-in-law. "You'd think Quinn would have told us about this."

"Yes, Quinn, that wasn't very nice," Judy admonishes, turning to the blonde.

Quinn's hands cross behind her back as she makes her way over to the mass of people. "We wanted to keep it to ourselves for a while until we were sure the baby was going to make it."

"Spontaneous miscarriages," Judy says sagely with a nod. "I know all about the risks. I did birth two children after all."

"And I've birthed three," Frannie says proudly, winking at her mother.

Rachel stares in awe at the two. "If it doesn't make either of you uncomfortable, I'd like for you to explain to me in great detail what the birthing process entails. What are your thoughts on natural, home birth? Or is a hospital a more suitable option? What are your feelings toward an epidural?"

"Honey, I say if they want to drug you up, go for it. Anything to alleviate the pain." Frannie nods enthusiastically with her mother. "It's like someone is murdering your insides."

Rachel's jaw drops with palpable distress in her eyes and Quinn jumps in to rescue her. "Okay, you two, that's enough. If you scare her more she might decide to keep the baby in forever."

They all settle around the table, Frannie sitting next to Rachel and Judy across as they continue a less scary conversation about pregnancy and birthing. "I was huge by the time I gave birth to my third son," Frannie says. "It felt _awful_. And he's such a brat!" She laughs good-naturedly as Judy glares mildly. "That's my youngest grandson you're talking about."

Leroy and Hiram chime in whenever the mood strikes but for the most part, try to avoid the child birth part of the conversation.

"Quinn, we need to talk."

Her eyes slide over to her father's. She gives an imperceptible nod and the two begin walking away from the group, further along the backyard. Rachel catches sight of the two leaving, biting her lip nervously. Solo conversations between the two most stubborn Fabrays in the family hardly ever ended on good terms. She tries her best to return to the conversation, hoping this day didn't end with Quinn in tears.

They end their walk yards away from the picnic table, turning around to face everyone. Quinn's arms cross over her chest. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, her mind wondering what this conversation could possibly be about. She wonders what her father's thinking. If he's disappointed that his only lesbian daughter seems to become more and more of a lesbian every time he sees her.

"Hot out today. Couldn't have picked a nicer day to have this get together?" he jokes. He jokes now, much like he did when she was younger. Much younger. It was a welcomed surprise when, on the day of her wedding, he looked to her and said _Are you sure you and Rachel should be wearing white?_

Simple. It was so simple yet tears of joy sprung to Quinn's eyes and she clung to her father all the way down the aisle until he finally gave her to Rachel.

"You know Rachel. When her mind is set on something nothing changes it. Just be happy it isn't raining," she quips back.

They go silent again. Moments like these remind Quinn just how much she and her father are alike. And with the impending birth of her daughter she wants nothing more than to be _unlike_ him. She _wants_ to be affectionate, and caring and emotionally available. All the things her father, and occasionally, her mother weren't.

"How far along is Rachel?" he asks hesitantly.

"You could have asked her. Did you even speak to her?" she responds knowingly.

"Everyone was fawning over her pregnancy; I didn't want to intrude on such an intimate scene."

"You're a part of this family, too," she says softly. "But to answer your question, she's just over five months."

"Is she healthy?"

The question is asked with a brusque tone but Quinn knows better, knows that her father cares for Rachel more than he'd ever let on. She doesn't blame him. It's hard not to care for an annoyingly bubbly, genuinely kind, loving and forgiving individual.

"She's healthy."

"How did this…happen? Two women can't…"

"We have a donor. He should be here today actually. Rachel used my egg, his sperm, and now she's carrying the baby."

"A Fabray," he says proudly.

"A Fabray," she echoes.

"And the baby is?"

"A girl."

"My first granddaughter," he whispers, almost fervently.

Her heart spikes with joy at the tone of his voice. She reaches out for his hand and they share a rare smile before she leads him back to the table. By the time they get back there, Leroy and Judy are practically nose to nose, betting.

"Honey, my husband and I have been Spades partners for years. Do you really think you can beat us?"

"Well, Hiram and I have won _trophies _for how spectacular we are. Bring it."

She takes a seat between Frannie and Rachel, leaning over to whisper in Rachel's ear. "What happened while I was gone?"

"Daddy mentioned what a great card player he is and the rest is history." Rachel turns to face the blonde, eyes roaming over her face carefully. "Are you okay?"

Her head bobs up and down. "A rare conversation that didn't end in and argument," she whispers. Rachel smiles warmly, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on the blonde's lips.

"Aww, isn't that sweet," Frannie coos.

Quinn turns her red face to her sister. "Shut _up_, Francine!"

"Still a big baby, I see."

"You always try to embarrass me!"

"Russell, tell the Berry men how great we are at Spades," Judy demands.

Russell walks over to sit beside his wife, opposite Quinn. "We are quite skillful at the game," he gloats.

"We'll settle this later. A quick game to five hundred."

Quinn focuses back to Rachel. "You hungry?"

"Famished," she whimpers.

"I'm sure it's not that bad." She turns to all of their family, raising her voice over the arguing. "You guys can eat now if you want! Everyone's here now."

Hiram begins to pass the food down from his end of the table. "What about Jesse?"

"Who's Jesse?" Frannie asks.

"Yes, who? And Quinnie, do you have any…refreshments?"

"Alcohol's in the cellar, mom."

"And Jesse is my former co-star from _Spring Awakening_. He's also the donor."

"Couldn't get it up to do the deed yourself, Q?" her sister jokes. She flames scarlet. Her shoulders tense as she rises from her seat. "I'll get the bottle for you, mom," she says tightly.

The sound of her sister's laugh sounding oddly like freedom chases after her as she walks into the house, quickly down a flight of stairs and into the cellar. She grabs a long, slender bottle of red wine before heading back up the steps. The doorbell rings just as she's about to go outside. Spinning on her heels, she walks through the house to the door. She looks through the peephole, takes a deep breath, and opens the door. "Jesse."

"Hello, Quinn." He stretches his arms out at his sides. "I come bearing no flowers or gifts of any kind for Rachel."

"That's a start." She steps aside, allowing him to enter.

He turns to her. "Shall we talk now or…?"

"Yeah, sure. Just have a seat. I have to run this out to my mother." A second later she's in the kitchen, popping the bottle open, grabbing a glass and running outside. "I'm going to sleep so well tonight," she grumbles to herself.

She's travels outside, mumbling a bunch of 'excuse me's' as she reaches across the table to hand the bottle and glass to her mother.

"You brought the whole thing! I always knew you'd treat me right."

Quinn leans down, her lips brushing Rachel's ear. Despite her surroundings, Rachel can't help the shiver that courses through her. "Jesse's here," Quinn murmurs.

Like a bucket of cold water. She quickly turns to face Quinn. "Do I need to go with you?"

"No."

"Quinn…"

"I've got it, Rach. Just try not to eat my BLT before I get back," she teases.

Before Rachel can respond, she goes back inside to the living room. Out of breath, she plops down beside Jesse. "Just give me minute."

"Seems like you've had a busy day," he comments, watching her intently.

"I have." Her shoulders straighten as she faces him more fully. "I want to…apologize. I'm only going to do it once so you better get your fill."

He nods.

"I apologize for my behavior towards you these past few months. It was…immature."

"I forgive you, Quinn."

"However," she says firmly. "Everything I said still stands. Rachel will always be mine."

He laughs purposefully. "Quinn, honestly? Rachel is…oddly monogamous for a Broadway thespian. I don't know what you've done or what kind of hold you have on her but she isn't going anywhere. All she thinks about, all she ever talks about is you."

She can't help it, the smug smile on her lips. "I trust my wife. It's just taken me a while to trust you. And it'll take me a while to trust you completely. But my daughter is going to be here in a few months. You're the donor whether I like it or not and it would be best if we got along."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Good," she says quietly. She stands up, looking down at him. "Both of our families are outside. You've met Rachel's many times before when they came to her shows but you haven't met mine. Word of advice; they're worse than me."

"This should be a treat," he replies sarcastically. Quinn laughs quietly and Jesse smiles, following her outside.

"Hey, Jesse's here! And Quinn allowed him to live long enough for him to make it through the house!" Leroy cheers.

"Hello, everyone. It's nice to see you again, Mr. & Mr. Berry." He turns to Francine. "You must be Quinn's sister. You're beautiful. And you." He looks toward Judy. "You _must _be her mother; you're just as gorgeous."

Quinn groans quietly, plopping down in the seat beside Rachel. Frannie is hardly affected. One of the few things she and Quinn have in common is that it's nearly impossible to flatter them. Judy's face is flushed but no one knows if it's from the alcohol or Jesse's compliment.

"Yes, she is Quinn's mother. My wife," Russell says pointedly. He extends his hand. "Russell Fabray. It's good that I get to meet the man that gave my daughter and daughter-in-law the necessary…resources for a baby. I have to make sure your story checks out."

"No stories here, sir," he assures as he begins to gather his food. "I'm simply a theater boy at heart. Singing and acting is all I do." He weighs his options on where to sit. The space beside Rachel, Quinn's sister—whom seems immune to his charm—beside Mr. Fabray himself, or beside Hiram. The safest bet seems to be Rachel's father so he offers the man a kind smile as he slides into a seat beside him.

Rachel wraps her arm around Quinn's waist as the blonde finally begins to eat her meal. "I'm proud of you," she whispers into the blonde's ear. Her hand glides along her lower back and Quinn's breath hitches. Hazel eyes scan the people around them to make sure no one is paying them any attention.

"Remember what you said last night?" Her hot breath washes over Quinn's ear like fire. Pale thighs shift discretely under the table as Quinn nods her head.

"After dinner," is the last thing she says before she pulls away.

"I've eaten. I'm full. How about those cards," Leroy says with a roguish grin, casting a side-ways glance to Judy.

"Oh, you can bring it, Berry!"

"She sounds like you, Quinn!" Rachel laughs, apparently having bounced back from her little conversation with Quinn. The blonde, however, is hardly coherent. "Yeah…"

"Looking a little flushed, Lucy. You okay?"

She ignores the jab. "I'm great, Francine." She looks over at the scene. "Really great." Her two families together as one yet again, getting along. Her sister, whom she doesn't see nearly as often as she'd like, smiling dreamily at the two arguing couples without a care in the world. Jesse even manages to fit right in. Hiram tosses him a napkin and a pen to keep score, threatening his life if he screws up. Quinn sits back and watches it all, Rachel at her side, squawking loudly when someone cheats. She occasionally has to avoid Quinn's sandwich, the smell of bacon making her mouth water. And Quinn eventually catches on, flashing the sandwich in front of her teasingly over and over again until she's eaten it all.

Her arm wraps around Rachel's shoulders as the brunette sinks contentedly into her side. "I love our family."

"They're all crazy," Quinn comments. "But I love them, too."

"500! Suck it, Berry!"

"Mom!" Quinn and Francine call.

Hiram actually blushes, Russell and Jesse look wholly uncomfortable, and Leroy and Rachel, well they just laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh.

"What?" Judy asks, bewildered. "What'd I say?"

* * *

><p>"Get naked, Fabray."<p>

Quinn arches an amused eyebrow, but nevertheless, does as she's told. Rachel, already naked, lies back against the bed, watching intently as the summer dress slides down the blonde's form. Quinn stands at the edge of the bed, same eyebrow raise and smirk that Rachel's begrudgingly—so she tried to make it seem—come to love. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

"Say it."

"Top drawer," Rachel whispers.

"_Say_ it."

"Get the strap-on."

Quinn bites her lip uncertainly. She grabs the toy from the drawer, straps on, giggling quietly at that thought. When it's secure, her gaze lifts to look at Rachel intently through her eyelashes. Rachel's breath catches at the sight. Quinn's hands clasped firmly behind her back looking like she's about to do serious damage with what's between her legs. "Come here, Q."

"Nicknames already, huh?" Hands and knees hit the mattress, a lithe form crawling predatorily above Rachel. A shiver runs down her spine. They meet, face to face, and past the lust and desire that swirl in both their eyes, there's an undying love just below the surface. Rachel quickly leans up to attack the blonde's neck with wet kisses, working her way to her lips.

Her lips slide languidly along Quinn's, drinking her. She grips the back of Quinn's neck, pulling the blonde closer. A plump lower lip lands softly between her own. She bites it, pulling back to tug. Quinn whimpers at the sting, her hips bucking into the ones below hers.

The strap-on grazes tan inner thighs and Rachel writhes below her. "Come on, Quinn," she moans. Her lips trail down the blonde's jaw line, to delve deeply into soft skin. Her teeth scrape along Quinn's delicate throat, soothing the bite with an agile tongue. She clenches, thinking of how it feels to have her tongue elsewhere. Between Quinn's thighs, in slick, tight heat, making the blonde moan and pant and grip her dark hair, begging her to go deeper. The thought alone is too much. "Please," she cries.

Quinn's forearm flexes slightly in effort to hold the brunt of her weight. She grasps the silicone tightly in her hand, groaning softly at the dual assault of the insert rubbing against her and Rachel's tongue flicking against her neck. "I'm not sure about this," she weakly protests because, with Rachel's soft lips on her neck, she isn't sure _why_ she isn't sure anymore.

Rachel grabs the harness that nestles pale hips and pulls the blonde closer. "You promised."

"I said I'd think about it. I still don't think this is…right." She leaves the unspoken part of her argument out of this. The baby. Instant mood killer if she mentions her but they're both well aware of the reason why Quinn is apprehensive.

"Well, you already have it on," she purrs. "Might as well use it." Lean arms wrap around the blonde to tug her down harder. Quinn's forehead rests gently against Rachel's. Her breathing picks up as one of Rachel's hands skims down her front, scratching down straining abs to rest between her legs. She bypasses the blonde's hand fisted around the head and grabs the base of the shaft firmly. A swift tug has Quinn moaning, hips canting into Rachel's fist. "I already talked to the doctor."

"And?" Quinn gasps.

"You know _and_, you were there. She said it was more than okay for us to do this."

"I don't…"

"Come on, Quinn." Her hand slides along the shaft to push Quinn's hand away. The both watch with rapt attention, baited breath as the strap-on slides through slick folds. Rachel moans at the sight of herself stretching deliciously around the intrusion. Quinn slides the rest of the way in until she's fully sheathed inside of Rachel.

"Rachel—"

"Fuck, Quinn. It's been too long."

Her head bobs up and down as she pulls back out slowly before thrusting back in. She sets a slow pace at first to allow Rachel to get used to the feeling again. And, okay, to allow herself some time to steady herself before she ends up arriving too early.

"This is a fantastic ending to a great day," Rachel breathes as the blonde begins to set a slow rhythm.

"Yeah."

"It was so good to see our families. Frannie was a good surprise."

Quinn stops abruptly. Rachel's eyes snap open to see the blonde glaring down at her. "Why'd you stop?" she whines.

"No talking about family. Especially my sister and if you mention Jesse I will definitely pull out."

She nods vehemently, knowing that her wife is just crazy enough to actually stop and withhold sex until who knows how long. Quinn has always had amazing self-control.

Her rhythm starts back up effortlessly. She rolls her hips back and forth, in and out, and Rachel writhes beneath her. The insert presses inside of her again and again, brushes against her clit with every stroke and she can already feel everything burning. Her right hand gropes along the head of the bed to grip the mattress, her left doing the same with the side of the mattress. She lifts off of Rachel, carefully avoiding her stomach. Her hair falls across her sweaty forehead. Red lips turn upwards into a smirk. Rachel trembles as Quinn hovers over her, confident, cocky, looking exactly like she did when they were in college. Her insides boil at the thought, the memories, the sight of having one Quinn Fabray, Quinn _Berry_-Fabray looking down at her so predatorily.

"All mine," Rachel whispers softly. Quinn grips the mattress for dear life as she begins to thrust faster. A broken cry is torn from Rachel's lips. She arches, hips rolling as she meets thrust for thrust. She grabs for any amount of Quinn she can reach. Snaking a hand behind her head, she brings those tempting lips down for a kiss. Quinn's tongue slides hotly across her bottom lip, sneaking inside a second later. She thrusts her tongue in and out of Rachel's mouth just as the strap-on thrusts in and out of _Rachel._ Plump lips latch onto her tongue, milking it for dear life and Quinn groans, tightening around insert pressed into her.

Rachel pulls back at the very last second that oxygen becomes of most importance. She gasps into the air, back bowing, whether to get more air or to get more Quinn, she isn't sure. Both are essential for survival. Quinn buries her face into Rachel's neck, licking a trail along her collar bone.

"Remember the first time—" she groans as Quinn leans down to swipe her tongue against her sensitive nipple. She arches, shamelessly presenting herself to the blonde. "The first time we used the strap-on?" Her mind swims with the thought as Quinn attaches herself to the nipple, sucking furiously. Rachel yelps as even teeth bite down on the puckered flesh. She remembers their first time with the strap-on fondly. How Quinn had admitted she wasn't very familiar with one. How hot it was that the blonde wanted Rachel to use it on her, though she denied the women she slept with in the past that privilege.

Quinn chuckles at the memories that flutter through her mind. "I was apprehensive." She remembers the soothing timbre of Rachel's voice as she slid into her, the steady arm that wrapped around her trembling form, those slim hips nestled between her own. Her hips jerk wildly against Rachel's, losing rhythm. "You _do _remember," Rachel purrs.

"How could I forget?"

"Remember the first time I took you with it?" she groans as the memory floods her own mind. "Remember the first time I took you from the back?"

Her palms slide roughly over Quinn's ass. "You were so excited," Quinn moans.

She whimpers as Rachel licks the shell of her ear. The brunette's low voice pulsing throughout her body to land firmly between her legs. Rachel gives the soft, round flesh under her hands a squeeze and Quinn bucks uncontrollably, a whine stuck in her throat. "How could I not be? Have you _seen _your butt?"

_Oh._ Oh, that.

A telling blush rises along Quinn's chest, up her neck to her face and across her cheeks. "You mean _that_." She buries her red face further into Rachel's neck. "That was my first time doing…that," she mumbles.

Rachel moans again because _no one _in history besides her can say that they've taken _that_ from Quinn Fabray. She brings a hand up to cradle the back of Quinn's neck gently. The blonde's thrusts slowly as soothing fingernails scrape against the nape of her neck. "I know," Rachel says softly. "I was honored."

"Really?" It's so quiet that if Quinn hadn't been so close Rachel might not have heard it. Pale hips grind in slow circles between Rachel's legs, the silicone inside of Rachel hitting the perfect spot every single time.

"Mhmm," she whimpers against the shell of Quinn's ear. Her legs wrap tightly against Quinn, silently urging her for more. "You gave me something that those two other women never got to have, Quinn. Just thinking about it makes me—" Her hips thrust quickly into Quinn and she hisses at the contact. It won't take much. Just, more. "Fuck me faster, baby. Please."

"Say please again."

"_Please_."

"Again, baby."

"Please fuck me, Q."

A quiet growl is all she hears in return as Quinn pulls back once more only to slam quickly back into her. Rachel chuckles throatily. That nickname will always get her what she wants. They pick up pace quickly, meeting thrust for thrust. Rachel plants sloppy kisses all along Quinn's face and neck. Long, purposeful strokes make her shudder violently against the body above her. One arm slings loosely around Quinn while the other reaches up to tightly grip the wrist that has the mattress in an equally tight grasp. Rachel licks her lips, peering up into darkened eyes. "Remember this?"

Quinn's eyes slide over to Rachel white knuckling her wrist with a grin. "I always bruise for days."

"Deeper," Rachel groans, already having forgotten the conversation.

"Spread yourself for me."

In an instant Rachel's feet are unwound from Quinn's hips, feet placed firmly on the mattress below her and Quinn drives deeper. She looks up and across Rachel's flushed face, swollen parted lips, half lidded eyes and all she can think is how lucky she is she got to her before Jesse did.

"Mine," she whispers.

"Yes," Rachel echoes

"Only mine."

She begins to thrust harder, pounding into Rachel the way the brunette wants it. The mattress begins to screech but it's only white noise to Rachel. "Yes, yours, all yours. Take me, _take me._"

One leg hooks back around Quinn's waist, providing a new angle. Rachel's eyes cross at the feeling. "_Yes_," she hisses. "Just like that, Q." And Quinn continues to hit her mark. Over and over in both Rachel and herself. Her arms shake with exhaustion and arousal but she soldiers through, breathing shallowly through her mouth as her hips piston back and forth, back and forth.

Rachel watches, mesmerized as pale breasts sway back and forth, hard pink nipples daring her. She leans forward, flattening her tongue and dragging it roughly along a stiffened peak.

"_Fuck_," Quinn whimpers. "Again, baby, please."

"Again what, Q?" she husks. "What do you want me to do?"

She's beyond being embarrassed. How can she be at a time like this? Too far gone and too strung out give a damn about anything other than the insistent pounding between her legs increased by the pressure on her clit and Rachel's hot mouth. "Suck them," she whispers.

"Such what?"

"My nipples," she whines. Oh, how Rachel loves that sound. That helpless cry that only comes around when Quinn's control is hanging on by a mere thread. When she's given Rachel control. He lips wrap around the aching flesh, sucking tenderly as her thumb and forefinger close harshly around the other.

The contrast in feeling causes Quinn's head to rod back. Blonde hair spills behind her and Rachel wishes she could see past the blonde to look into her vanity, knowing how erotic they must look. Instead she continues to suck greedily on the nipple presented to her, as Quinn works her higher with each stroke.

"Let go of my wrist," Quinn mumbles shakily.

Rachel moans around the breast in her mouth, shaking her head.

"Then let go of my breast and touch your clit." A deep moan slides from Rachel's throat at Quinn using the words breast and clit in the same sentence. The blonde's rhythm is completely lost, sloppy and jerky but Rachel eats it up, her heat swallowing every thrust that's given to her.

She nods. That she can do. Let go of Quinn's wrist, however, she can't. It's almost like tradition now. Her hand quickly skates down and finds her clit. She pinches it, massages it carefully out of its hood and once it's out she's on fire. She rubs in tight, tight, _tight_ circles, alternating between pinching it lightly and roughly mashing down on it.

"Almost."

"Me too."

"You're going to come?"

"That's the plan."

"With me?"

"Or after." She begins to thrust harder because fuck, she's way too close and Rachel just needs to shut up and come already. "Just not before." She groans as the burning between her legs begins to spread. Her ears pick up on the wet, slick sound of Rachel as she slides in and out of her and it's almost her undoing. "Rach, you gotta come, baby," she whines.

"I am," she cries. "I am, I am, I—" Her breath hitches. She scrambles to let go of her clit and hold on to the blonde for dear life. "Quinn," she whimpers, squeals, all but yells as she's ripped from the inside out. Her chest arches powerfully, stiff nipples digging against Quinn's own and it only adds to the sparks shooting across her body. Her eyes close tightly as her head tips back, neck bare and littered in little red marks.

Quinn watches intently for as long as she can before it's too much. The sight of her wife falling completely apart because of her is always too much. She burrows into Rachel's neck, whimpering her name over and over as her hips continue to thrust jerkily, milking both their orgasms for all it's worth.

Rachel holds her tightly until it's over, littering her neck and shoulder with kisses. Quinn hovers over her, accepting and returning kisses until she's too weak to hold herself up anymore. The mattress dips under her weight as she slides out and off of Rachel. Her head sinks back into the pillow, eyes closed. She deftly removes the strap-on. It's tossed carelessly to the floor and Quinn flips onto her back, face landing in the pillow.

Rachel scoots closer to the blonde until she's practically on top of her. Her leg slides teasingly along Quinn's calf until it rests gently against her ass and between her legs. "Q," she whispers.

Halfway between consciousness and sleep, Quinn merely grunts.

"Are you asleep?"

"Trying to be."

"But you promised we could discuss names."

She huffs indignantly as she turns over to face the brunette. "Are you kidding me? Rachel, I've been busy all day. I've been up since the ass crack of dawn—"

"Language, Q."

"_Ass_ crack of dawn, cooking for everyone. I even made _your_ food while you slept all day up until they very last minute when your fathers got here."

"I already told you you're the more domestic one," she defends. "I love that about you."

"Even so, you could have helped."

"I was tired."

"And now _I'm_ tired. So, let me sleep."

Her eyes close firmly, ignoring the pout on Rachel's face. A delicate hand begins to stroke her back soothingly and she sighs, sinking further into the bed. A second later the hand is gone. She feels the bed move as Rachel sits up but she doesn't open her eyes. She can't. It's been a long day, she's been running herself ragged, she gave her wife the best orgasm she could and now she's tired. She's not a super woman, after all.

A light blanket covers her prone form. Rachel stares down at her wife; affection making her heart beat faster and expand with love. Even after all these years the sight of Quinn alone makes her heart race. She slides more fully under the covers, scooting back over to Quinn once more. Her hand reaches out to brush the curtain of blonde hair from Quinn's face. She continues her trek, nimble fingers tracing the same face she's memorized several times over. She leans over to place a lingering kiss against Quinn's forehead. "I'll tick off some names that I remember and you just tell me yea or nay, okay?"

"Mhm."

"Emily?"

"Uh-uh."

"Caitlin?"

"Uh-uh."

"Susan?"

"Old person name."

"Sophia?"

"That's really pretty."

"I'll add that to the refined list. Regina?"

"Too _Mean Girl_-ish."

"Isabella?"

"Too _Twilight_."

"Too what?"

"Never mind, baby. You wouldn't like it. Or maybe you would, in which case I'd have to disown you."

Rachel scoffs lightly, smacking the blonde on the ass.

"Madison."

"That just _sounds_ like she's going to be a spoiled brat."

"Riley."

"I like it."

"Gabrielle?"

A small smile works its way to Quinn's lips before it morphs into a full-fledged grin. "I like Gabrielle. Baby Gabby."

Rachel smiles back. "I like Quinn."

Quinn's eyes open to look at her wife just before Rachel turns the lights off. "I like Rachel." She turns over fully, Rachel falling into her arms and they both succumb to sleep.


	8. The Closure

**Title: **Unexpected Expectancies

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **"But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's her biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty."

**A/N 1: **I think next chapter will be the last! If not, I will definitely say so next time. But with what I have in mind for an ending, I'm thinking it should be the last one.

**A/N 2: **All typos are mine. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

><p><em>The Closure<em>

"I don't care if you're not gay, you know? It doesn't bother me anymore."

After seven years Rachel would like to think that such bold, precipitous statements from her wife wouldn't catch her off guard. Yet sometimes they do. This is one of those times. She drops the knife used to spread the hummus on her sandwich, turning to face Quinn. "I'm sorry; what?"

Quinn shrugs. "I'm just saying that if you're attracted to men as well then I'm okay with that."

Her eyebrows rise to her hairline. This is new. Quinn is never just _okay_ with things. She isn't passive enough to be _okay_ with an arrangement she doesn't like or agree with. This is different. "Not that I don't appreciate your acquiesce, but what brought this on?"

Pale shoulders rise and fall yet again with indifference. Rachel doesn't know where to begin or what questions to ask. Is this about Jesse? Did they get along that well that now Quinn just has this new lease on life and their relationship? Or is this about the baby? Little Barbra Gabrielle Sophia Riley has seemed to open up a few floodgates and uncomfortable conversations that Rachel didn't even know the two needed to have unleashed.

She turns back around, questions churning in her head. Her brow furrows, she bites her lower lip. She finishes slathering spread on her sandwich. Her tongue pokes out to slide across her thumb, gathering hummus as she turns around and walks towards the blonde. She places the sandwich right in front of Quinn, the request unspoken. Quinn grabs the sides of her chair, scooting back from the table just enough to accommodate Rachel. "Am I too heavy?" Rachel asks as she carefully perches on Quinn's lap.

Quinn grimaces a little and smiles behind her because, yeah. She's a little heavy with the extra baby weight, but she'd never tell her. "Uh-uh," she murmurs. She places a supportive hand against Rachel's back, the other resting snuggly between the brunette's legs high on her inner thigh. Rachel's lips quirk upwards. She's never known familiarity like this. Touching intimate places on one another's bodies without the expectation that things have to go further.

"Thank you," she says softly. She eyes the sandwich undecidedly before finally taking a bite.

There's a gentle squeeze to her inner thigh and a soothing hand stroke up and down her back. It surprised her at the very beginning of their relationship, how tactile Quinn is. She knew the blonde wasn't a stranger to sex, but the moments in between, the hand holding, hair stroking, lingering caresses have always told her things that the blonde didn't have words for in that moment.

She continues because once and for all the opportunity to speak her mind and finally lay this topic to rest has presented itself and she's Rachel Barbra Berry-Fabray. She doesn't miss opportunities. "You know I love you," she starts. "I love you more than anything."

"But…?" Her hands still as she focuses on the conversation. The hand radiating smothering heat still rests unflinchingly on Rachel's inner thigh.

"But I loved Finn, too."

Quinn rocks back to finally get a good look at Rachel's face. Finn. She remembers. How could she forget? The only boyfriend Rachel's ever had, but he cared too much about his reputation to treat her like she was his girlfriend. They hardly ever went out, he rarely acknowledged her in school and though he was popular and could have stopped the teasing and torment Rachel went through, he never lifted a finger to stop it. But he apparently had a heart of gold from what Rachel always told her. Quinn can't see how. Yet she can't pass much judgement at all, if any. Her description of him in high school almost described her perfectly. She jumped from boyfriend to boyfriend, refusing to date anyone beneath her on the social ladder because she couldn't afford for her reputation to take a hit. She was on top and though they were best friends, Santana was always on her tail. One slip up from Quinn and Santana could've easily slid right into her position.

Her loathing of Finn oozed with a bit of self-hatred for the person she used to be and she never deluded herself into thinking otherwise. "He didn't treat you right," she finally responds. Then she of course has to ask the question if she had dated Rachel when she was in high school, would she have treated her any better? Especially with the thinly veiled cloud of homophobia looming over her parents and all of Lima, Ohio.

"But he was kind, Quinn," Rachel explains for the billionth time. "He was the only person that had ever extended me kindness and I fell in love with him for it."

"So, maybe I'm not a lesbian," she continues. "My feelings for him were genuine and though I don't feel them now, I can remember feeling them then."

"Do you love me more?"

Rachel smiles with a quiet laugh. Her arms wrap around the blonde's shoulders and she presses a warm kiss to her forehead. "Yes, I love you more. I love you most. I only love you. And I will only ever love you for the rest of my life."

"So, you're not gay?"

"Quinn!"

"I'm just asking."

"I don't know. I've been with two women, one man and…I don't know. But I'll tell you what I do know," she purrs.

"What do you know?" Quinn asks around a smile.

"I know that what I have with you is something I've never had with the other two. It's…raw and powerful. Very passionate and consuming. I feel like I can't go on without you, Quinn. And it's scary to feel so dependent but at the same time you make me feel so complete."

"Do I?" Her smile is a full on grin now.

Rachel nods, her eyes trailing down Quinn's body. "No one has ever loved me the way you love me, Quinn. And when you touch me…" She inhales a shaky breath. "No one has ever touched me like you have. You make me feel alive and desired and secure all at the same time."

"And loved?"

"And loved."

Quinn bites her lip, processing all of the information. She had been in love with Finn but she's in love with Quinn now. And forever. Her head tilts to the side. _Okay._ "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"And we don't have to talk about this again?"

"Just one question."

"Okay."

"If Finn were to come around," she asks, her hand massaging Rachel's thigh. Her fingers glide teasingly over satiny skin. Rachel's thighs clench briefly and Quinn smirks. "And he wanted you back, what would you say?"

Her jaw clenches, that talented hand causing warmth to simmer between her legs. What was the question?

"I'm waiting, _wifey_," she murmurs.

Rachel swallows thickly. "I would tell him that I'm married and in love and with child."

"So, the answer would be no?" Her nails lightly dig into the soft flesh of Rachel's thigh. A small strangled noise sticks in the back of her throat. "I'd tell him no," she breathes.

She releases Rachel's thigh, wrapping her arm around her waist. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay." It's quickly becoming her favorite word. She hops off the blonde's lap on wobbly legs, grabbing Quinn's hand. "Come on, Quinn, we have to go shopping for the baby and for a dress for me to wear to your work function tonight."

Quinn groans, having forgotten all about her little gathering at work. She bites her lip unsurely but says nothing, following her wife up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"And you want this embroidered?" the woman behind the counter asks dubiously.<p>

"Yes," Quinn says confidently.

"We don't do that, ma'am."

"Well, my wife wants it."

"Yes, but we don't do that."

The vein in her neck twitches. "Lady, I see the damn sewing machine behind you."

The older woman, looking to be around sixty if Quinn was being generous, turns around, eyes the sewing machine and turns back to Quinn. She thrusts the light pink blanket in front of Quinn's face. "Feel this." A pale hand hesitantly reaches out to run over the soft plush blanket. "This is very thick material. I don't have a needle for this."

"Then _get _one and fuckin—"

"Quinn?"

Rachel walks through the throng of racks filled with infant clothing to find Quinn at the register. "You have to have the baby's name before we can embroider anything."

Her mouth clacks shut, instantly regretting practically cursing the woman out for not embroidering the blanket when they don't even have a name yet. "Yeah, we really should have done this before we left the house."

"I thought something on the spot and spontaneous would yield a more fascinating memory for when we tell our daughter how her name was chosen."

"This isn't exactly fascinat—"

"Rachel Berry?"

The awestruck tone of voice causes Rachel to pull her broad brimmed hat a little lower on her head. The cashier leans across the counter, extending her hand. "I'm Susan, pleasure to meet you. I've seen several of your shows, both _Spring Awakening _and _Wicked._"

"Old person name," Quinn mutters.

"Quinn!" she quietly chastises. A broad show smile blossoms instantly on her face as she takes the offered hand. "It's a pleasure to meet a Rachel Berry fan, Susan."

"Is this blanket yours?" she asks. "I can have it embroidered and finished within the next two days."

Quinn's jaw drops. "No, you –you just gave me the hardest time—"

"Two days from now sounds lovely," Rachel says, flashing another award winning smile.

"Fantastic. What name do you want to be sewn on?"

Rachel squeals. "This is our fascinating moment, Quinn!"

She can't help but smile at her wife's enthusiasm. "So, what do we name her once and for all?"

"You're asking me?"

"Yes, Mrs. Fabray."

"I'm going to make this decision? I'm just asking for clarification."

Quinn leans her elbow against the counter. So much for spontaneous and 'fascinating' decisions. "We can go home and talk it over some more if you want."

"No! That's not spontaneous."

"Neither is this, Rach."

"We have three names to choose from once and for all…"

"Riley, Sophia, and Gabrielle," Quinn fills in to move the process along.

Rachel looks up at her with helpless eyes. "This is a big decision."

"Go with your gut."

"My gut is telling me I shouldn't have eaten that Chick-o-Stick at that stand in the food court."

"Rach, it's just a name."

"But what if she hates it? What if she hates it and hates me because I picked it out."

"Well, if you don't want the responsibility then—"

"No, I want it!" she exclaims. Then much quieter, "No one's ever cared about my opinions before you."

Quinn smiles softly. She walks closer to her panicked wife. Taking Rachel's hand in her own, she reaches down and places it across her womb. "Baby, at this point no one knows our baby more than you do. You know what food she likes, what she hates, smells that don't please her. You will always have this connection with her no matter what you name her. So, just pick. What's your favorite?"

She looks down to her hand over her own stomach, her baby. Her thumb strokes just above her navel softly. "I like Gabrielle."

"Gabrielle," Quinn whispers. "I like it, too." She turns to the woman. "So, _Susan_, you think you can embroider her name on that blanket for us?"

Susan side eyes the blonde but nevertheless writes the name down on a Sticky Note. "Middle name?"

Rachel has a mini panic attack. "We don't have a middle name, Quinn!"

The blonde in question bites her lip in contemplation.

"Oh, sweet, Barbra, we are so unprepared," she mutters. "I thought this would be a good idea. I should have known to never deviate from will refined lists, plans and schematics. That _never_ works. This will _never_ happen again. This is mortifying. How will our child go on? I bet she hates me already."

"Alyssa."

Rachel turns to find the blonde's determined gaze on Susan as she writes the name down. Rachel's eyes widen to saucers. Her hand clutches her chest tightly. "Mr. Schuester's play," she whispers.

Quinn grins, proud she remembers. "Where we first began."

She walks closer to wrap her arms tightly around Quinn's waist. "That's a very memorable name, Quinn. It was the beginning of _us_." She sighs as Quinn squeezes back. "I knew this would work. What did I tell you, baby? Fascinating memories."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "You're a genius, baby."

"Now when our daughter asks where her middle name came from we can tell her that it was the name of my character in the play that brought you and I together. In the play we shared our first kiss."

"In the play where I first got to touch your breast," she whispers with a sly smile.

Rachel grins back just as cheekily.

"Ladies," Susan interrupts with a slightly disapproving tone. Rachel clears her throat and Quinn takes a step back. "Gabrielle Alyssa Berry-Fabray, please," Quinn says. She reaches to fish out her wallet from her purse but Rachel stops her. "But—"

"Baby, you've bought quite literally everything today. My dress, a crib, clothes, our lunch. Let me pay for this." She fishes out a credit card and hands it to Susan. It's scanned and given back to her.

"Have a good day, ladies!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Goodbye, Susan! Quinn, stop being mean."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure I look great and not…fat?"<p>

"You look beautiful for the tenth time. And for the hundredth time, you aren't fat, you're pregnant. There's a difference."

"Do I look pregnant?"

Quinn looks at her incredulously. "_Yes_," she says, stressing the word. Rachel huffs quietly. Quinn's eyes rake down her body. Who knew maternity dresses could look so hot? The strapless dress falls along Rachel's form softly, her breasts, larger and heavier than they were months ago look full and supple. Quinn licks her lips. Her eyes trail lower as the white dress gives way to a light fuchsia color towards the middle, ending with a deep purple. Rachel had wanted to wear a pair of black stilettos but Quinn managed to convince her to simply wear flats because Rachel always complains of her feet hurting. Her dark chestnut hair falls down her back and around her shoulder in alluring waves. How Rachel could spend a whole day complaining about her looks, Quinn will never know. She looks absolutely stunning.

"I don't want to look pregnant," she hears Rachel complain.

"Well, too bad because you're seven months along."

"I just want to look good for you at your work function…party thing." Rachel looks at her confusedly. "What _is_ this event anyway?"

"A hot damn mess." She had never been to an office party before. At this point Rachel's guess is as good as hers. "And you look really beautiful, so stop worrying."

Rachel beams, latching onto the blonde's arm as they make their way into the party.

They enter the double doors and instantly take in their surroundings. Quinn glances around to employees familiar and unfamiliar. Bob, Jim, Lisa—boredom sets in rather quickly for her. "You want to just turn around and go?" she asks.

"No, Quinn, this is for you." Rachel, too, looks around, though the faces she spots are all unfamiliar. She tugs on the blonde's arm, pulling her further into the room. "How many casting parties and dinners have you gone to for me over the years? Allow me to repay the favor."

"I don't want you to repay the favor," she groans quietly. "I want to go home."

"Stop whining," she gently scolds.

"Quinn Fabray doesn't whine."

Rachel turns to her, completely serious save for a playful eyebrow lift. "You did last night."

She smiles playfully down at sparkling brown eyes. "Oh, really? What was I saying?"

The low tone of voice has Rachel's rapt attention. She walks closer to the blonde, clasping both her hands as she leans up to get as close to Quinn as she can in her flats and the blonde's heels. "Something like, _please baby, harder. Fuck me harder_," she whispers.

She pulls back, smirking at the small blush crawling across Quinn's face. Quinn clears her throat. "Well, that _does_ sound familiar."

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Rachel hurriedly pulls back as if having been caught. Quinn looks up to who interrupted them, clasping Rachel's hand tighter. "Hello, Wanda." She gestures in Rachel's direction. "This is my wife. Rachel, this is Wanda, my boss."

"Rachel Berry," Wanda replies with familiarity. She extends her hand in the shorter brunette's direction. "It's a pleasure to meet the mysterious wife of Quinn Fabray."

Rachel accepts the hand warmly. She smiles at the woman. "The pleasure is all mine."

"Quinn, why don't you take this lovely woman and find her a seat? Pregnant women shouldn't be on their feet more than absolutely necessary," Wanda jokes. "Congratulations, by the way."

"I couldn't agree more," Rachel says. "And thank you!"

Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes at her boss. She leads Rachel away, to a table. They find a pair of familiar faces and make a bee line to the right. Santana catches the pair as they walk over. She nudges Brittany to turn in their direction. The tall blonde is out of her seat, clapping giddily as Rachel and Quinn walk over. "Rachel, your belly totally makes me want to go bowling."

"Thanks, Britt," Rachel grumbles. The blonde squeals before tackling Rachel in a hug, carefully avoiding squishing her belly.

"I swear Brittany likes her more than me," Quinn jokes as she sits down.

Santana shrugs. "Probably."

"How long have you two been here?" Rachel asks as she sits beside the blonde. Brittany takes her seat beside Santana again, grabbing her hand and placing their intertwined fingers in her lap.

"About a half hour. I'm ready to blow this place. What took you so long to get here, Q?"

"We had to buy Rachel a dress. And embroider a blanket for the baby. It took so long because _somebody_ wanted to come up with a name on the spot instead of at home before we left." She cuts her eyes at Rachel. The brunette just smiles brightly at her smart idea.

"Ooh, what's the name!" Brittany asks. "Is it Brittany?"

Quinn laughs softly. "No, B, sorry. It's Gabrielle."

"Gabrielle. I like it. Better than Quinn."

Quinn scowls at her best friend. "There's nothing wrong with my name."

"I like your name, baby." Rachel leans over to kiss Quinn lightly on the lips.

"Thanks, baby."

"You guys are gross. Try to keep it in your pants."

"This coming from one half of the couple that's notoriously known for _not_ keeping it in their pants."

"We keep it in each other's."

"Damn right, Britts." The two trail off into their own worlds and Quinn and Rachel look away from the couple. Quinn's eyes scan her work colleagues once again, wishing for the second time this evening that she was home.

"You have a lot of co-workers, Quinn," Rachel murmurs as she looks around.

Quinn nods. "See that woman right there? That's Kathy. Can never do her job right."

Rachel turns to the woman in question. She laughs softly, throwing a chastising elbow back at the blonde. "Be nice, Quinn."

"When am I ever nice?"

Her dark eyes turn back to face the blonde. Her gaze dips to sweep over the blonde's appearance, the black dress clinging to her. Rachel approves of the dress. She approves wholeheartedly because she bought. A few years ago for her opening night of _Wicked_. She bought the strapless, backless, short black dress so that after her performance, running high off adrenaline, she could make Quinn strip for her in her dressing room afterwards. The dress was a couple hundred dollars but so, so worth it.

"You're certainly nice to me." She never quite meets Quinn's gaze, getting lost in the area between her heaving chest, striking clavicle and delicately defined jawline.

"Maybe I just like you," Quinn says softly.

At this, Rachel looks up into teasing hazel eyes. "I would hope so. I would hope that you like me enough to get me a drink."

She pretends to think, crossing her legs and leaning forward in her seat. "I don't know if I like you _that_ much, Rach."

Rachel pouts cutely at her and Quinn can't resist. She sighs loudly as if put out by the request but nevertheless, rises from her seat to get the brunette a drink.

She walks over to a long snack table, getting in line behind a co-worker whose name she can't remember. Scrutinizing the array of snacks as she walks down, she bypasses finger food in favor of something more adult. Her hand closes over a bottle of wine. She grabs a nearby glass, pouring herself a generous cup.

She grabs a bottle of orange juice next, walking back over to her table and handing it to the brunette. She's rewarded with a brilliant smile that still manages to take her breath away. "Thanks, Quinn."

She tips her glass in Rachel's direction. The red liquid is gently swirled in the cup until Quinn tips it back for a sip. Her tongue runs along her lower lip to savor the taste and then she tips it back again for another sip.

"Tell me what you do, Quinn."

Quinn smiles amusedly around the lip of her glass. She had told Rachel several times in the past what she does for a living. It was either misunderstood or completely forgotten about every time. "It's not as interesting as Broadway."

"Not many things are," Rachel teases. A middle finger is subtly given to her in response and her head rods back in laughter. "Promises, promises."

The sound brings joy to Quinn's ears. She polishes off the rest of her wine, sitting the cup on the table. She feels warmer. "I work in investment banking. I assist people in handling their money. I help any and everyone from as small as an individual to as large as a corporation raise their capital by underwriting and/or acting as the client's agent in the issuance of securities."

"I feel like I can do your job."

She snorts a laugh, sucking her teeth at the feisty brunette. "Doubt it."

"When is 'bring your wife to work day'?" Rachel asks, playfully goading the blonde. "I bet you've been keeping me away all these years because you've been afraid you'd lose your job to me."

"I bet I can win a Tony Award before you do," Quinn fires back.

Rachel gapes at her. "That's a sensitive subject!" she hisses. The smile on her face belies the severity of the comment. She pops the cap on the orange juice Quinn got her and quickly drinks it at least half. "I think our baby is going to come out orange."

"Or she's going to _be_ a giant orange," Quinn jokes as she reaches out to touch Rachel's belly.

"Hey, where'd the booze come from?" Santana asks. She grabs the blonde's cup from across the table, inspecting it. "Leave it to you to find it."

"There's wine at the refreshments table."

"Brb." She's out of her seat in a flash, walking towards the snack table.

"Rachel, how are your last few months feeling?" Brittany asks. She places her elbows on the table, palms under her chin in the most endearing way.

"I'm feeling wonderful," she says sincerely. "The extra weight is a little much but I'm managing. And I'm taking Lamaze classes that always put me at ease. I have an amazing wife that helps me through the whole process."

"I got the whole bottle, bitches!" Santana says as she comes back.

"Classy," Quinn says dryly.

She's met with a glare as her best friend pours her another cup. "Okay, so I'm having one," she says as she pours her own. "None for Berry." She sticks her tongue out at the shorter brunette. Rachel huffs quietly, crossing her arms. "B, you want in on this?"

Brittany eyes the wine curiously before shaking her head. "I have to be the demonstrated driver."

Santana smiles softly. "Designated, B." She grabs her glass and raises it. "I'd like to make a toast since I haven't done one of those in a while."

Quinn groans. "At least you're not drunk yet."

"I propose a toast," she continues, ignoring the blonde. "To…Berry and Gabrielle. And Quinn, too, I guess."

Rachel smiles. Quinn scoots closer, wrapping her arm around the brunette's shoulders and placing a kiss against her cheek. "I hope she's healthy," Santana continues. "And I hope she takes after Jesse because the two of you are a mess."

"End the toast now," Quinn says.

"Here, here!" Brittany says, tossing back her cup of water. She scrunches up her face to simulate the burn of alcohol.

Santana manages to down her entire cup while Quinn sips hers at a more moderate pace until it's all gone. She leans over to place another kiss against Rachel's cheek, this one a little sloppier. Rachel turns to face the blonde, chuckling softly. "Really, Quinn? Just that quick?"

"What are you talking about?" Quinn murmurs. Rachel bites back a laugh.

"Nothing, baby."

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?"

Oh. Oh, this is good. Quinn had the tendency to be a bit of a romantic sometimes when alcohol was involved. She was always suave until she crossed the threshold from tipsy to drunk. Right now she's just reaching tipsy, so the flirting—Rachel laughs at the thought. If it could be called flirting—is in full effect.

"Hmm, no, Casanova, you didn't. Care to tell?"

"I didn't tell you that?" Quinn says lowly. "That's a crime. You look gorgeous."

"Really?"

"Beautiful."

"Tell me more," she purrs.

"Sexy."

"And?"

"And if we were alone I'd rip that dress off and fuck you."

Rachel inhales a shaky breath as shivers race up and down her spine. She licks her lips, eyes darkening as she continues to stare hard into Quinn's own.

"Oh, shit," Santana mutters. "Drink up, Q." She pours the last of the bottles contents into Quinn's glass, hoping to dampen the blonde's charm with more liquor in her system or else everyone in the room would be privy to Rachel and Quinn having sex. And no one, least of all Santana, wants that.

Quinn absentmindedly grabs the glass, eyes trained on Rachel. "I love you," she says softly.

Dark eyes sparkle with unmasked affection. Her heart stops every time she hears those three words. She figures she should be dead by now. But those words make her feel so alive. "I love you too, Quinn."

The dark liquid slithers smoothly down her throat. She swallows the slightly sweet, tangy mix with ease. Her head tilts to the side. "I think our baby will be pretty."

"How could she not be?" Rachel asks. "You're her mother."

"She's going to get her beauty from you."

"Genetically impossible."

"Inside. Her inside beauty."

Each time Rachel smiles it threatens to split her cheeks. "You think I'm beautiful on the inside?"

"I think you're beautiful everywhere."

Her throat constricts, dries up completely from all the compliments being thrown her way. She fumbles for the bottle of juice beside her. The cap pops off and she finishes the remnants inside. It sooths her throat but creates a rumbling in her stomach. She turns to the blonde. "Quinn, baby?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you get me whatever crackers they have over there, please?"

"Okay, baby."

"After I eat we can mingle with your co-workers if you want. They all look…" she glances around, "drunk." A conga line that had started on the far side of the room seems to slowly be making its way over to where the girls are.

"We can, but they're boring." She stands up, sways a little and leans down to place a kiss atop Rachel's head.

Rachel watches the blonde walk away with hearts in her eyes.

Quinn hums to herself as she looks at the food spaced out on the table.

"Quinn, I didn't peg you as one who enjoyed the sauce."

She looks up to find Wanda sauntering towards her, hips swaying exaggeratedly and long dark hair worn down around her shoulders. Pencil shirt, low cut shirt unbuttoned just enough to spill her cleavage. Quinn almost laughs. She's good but she's no Rachel. "An occasional social drinker," Quinn responds, slurring slightly as she ventures further down the table.

Wanda comes to a stop in front of the table, walking around it to stand in front of Quinn. "I'm glad you came tonight."

Quinn shrugs. She reaches past the brunette, grabbing a plate of crackers. "It's a work function and I've never been to one. Rachel thought it'd be a good idea."

"I'm glad that we can still be professional despite what has transpired, Quinn."

"I'm a very professional woman."

Wanda nods. "If I may be so bold then allow me to say, you look beautiful tonight."

Quinn gives her a look. "Wanda, there is a fine line between professionalism and sexual harassment."

Her hands rise in mock surrender. "Nothing along the lines of harassment. Just a compliment." She lightly places her hand on the blonde's arm. "I was just going to talk about your raise some more."

Quinn holds a paper plate in the hand of the arm Wanda grips while she methodically places cracker after cracker on the plate. Difficulty, moderate. "Honestly, Wanda, I don't think this is something I should talk about while I'm tipsy."

"Why not?" She steps a little closer. "This is a laid back atmosphere. No work stress."

Rachel's stomach begins to growl again harder than ever. She sighs quietly, wondering why the hell it takes so long to put a few crackers on a plate. She chalks it up to the alcohol in the blonde's system. Turing in her seat, her eyes scan for the blonde, just in case Quinn had somehow managed to face plant on the way to the snack table. She finds her instantly. Who could miss such a banging body in a mini dress? …Or the person hanging off of her.

Rachel's head tilts slightly, as if not seeing anything correctly. Quinn, _her _Quinn practically in the arms of another woman. And not just any other woman, her boss. Well, perhaps she's exaggerating, but that's what it looks like. Wanda gripping Quinn's bicep, hardly any space between them. She watches closely. Quinn turns to Wanda. She eyes the hand on her arm and mutters something. She watches as Wanda takes a step back but keeps her hand on Quinn's arm.

"What's going on?" Rachel is out of her seat because pregnant or not, she's two seconds away from going over there and telling Quinn's boss off.

She was talking to herself but Santana hears her. She cranes her neck to look past Rachel. "Move your fat ass, will ya?"

Rachel turns to glare coldly at Santana. Now is not the time. Santana rolls her eyes and gets out of her seat in an attempt to see past Rachel. She swallows. "That's just Quinn and her boss."

"I _see_ that," she says tightly. They still haven't separated. Though now Quinn has broken eye contact to look at the contents on the snack table. "What are they doing?"

"I don't know, Berry," Santana replies warily.

Her fists clench at her sides. She visibly shakes. This is reminding her of that party back when she and Quinn first began dating. When they had one of their more major fights and she caught Quinn drinking at a party with some girl hanging all over her. Quinn and the girl were seconds away from kissing before Rachel's voice chimed in to break them up.

But this isn't then. This is now. And now, they aren't fighting. Now, they're married, with a baby on the way and Quinn is—Quinn is—

Rachel's insides boil with rage as the brunette's hand runs teasingly along Quinn's forearm. Quinn jerks back. Rachel doesn't hear the exchange but she doesn't miss the icy glare Quinn sends her and the stony expression on her face. She leans in closer, defensively and whatever she tells Wanda causes the brunette to wilt weakly in front of the blonde. Her confidence is instantly shattered. She looks down at the floor, mumbling something before walking off.

"Wonder what she said," Santana says quietly.

Rachel turns to face her. "What did I just watch?"

"It's…complicated."

"Un-complicate it."

"Look, it's not Quinn's fault, okay? Her boss—"

"Mm, hi, baby," a gentle voice purrs behind her. Rachel turns around to find Quinn looking at her intently. Cloudy eyes, flushed cheeks, and slumped shoulders. Never one to be able to handle her liquor, her slim forth sways slightly as she stands in front of her wife. Her lips press firmly together in agitation, offering Quinn no response. The bewildered blonde frowns before turning to Santana. "Did you threaten her to be quiet again?"

Santana shrugs. "She ain't pissed with me."

"Then what is she upset about?"

"Quinn, I think that lady wants to sleep with you," Brittany says sagely.

"She's nobody, B."

At this, Rachel finally speaks. "A nobody that you allowed to put hands all over you."

It takes her brain a little while to catch up, and her mouth a little longer to form a reply. "How were her hands all over me?"

"I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Well, I do." Mildly unsteady legs carry her to Rachel. "What are you going on about?"

"I'm ready to leave. Now."

Irritation colors her cheeks further, but she says nothing. Her eyes wash over Santana and Brittany then out to everyone else. The room seems smaller all of a sudden. As if everyone in their vicinity can hear their conversation. The sound of feet clacking catches her ears and she swivels around to find Rachel already walking off.

"I'll see you guys later," she mutters to Santana and Brittany, eyes trained on Rachel as she follows behind her. They exit the room and Quinn squints against the bright lights overhead in the long hallway they walk down. "Rachel, would you slow down?"

"No," is the curt reply tossed over Rachel's shoulder. "That was just embarrassing. I am your wife, your _pregnant_ wife. You _do not _leave my side to flirt with your boss."

Flirt? _Flirt_? Her insides burn with anger at the accusation, her feet picking up the pace. "Are you joking? Please tell me you are because if you're not then that's just stupid."

"It's stupid to want my wife not to flirt with her boss—especially not in front of me? Yes, Quinn, I _must_ be stupid. Very foolish and ill-advised, indeed."

"I wasn't flirting with her. Quit accusing me," she growls.

She spins on her heel to face the blonde. But she slips. A small puddle of water slicks the floor just enough for Rachel to tumble backwards onto the ground.

"Shit!" Quinn mutters, rapidly sobering at the sight of her wife on the ground. She kneels quickly in front of Rachel. "Are you alright?" Her hands dart out without thought, clasping Rachel's hands in her own and inspecting them for scrapes. "Does anything hurt?"

She finally looks up to meet Rachel's eyes. Wide, watery brown orbs stare back at her. "Rachel, say something," she begs. "What hurts?"

"Don't you love me?" Rachel whispers.

Quinn sighs tiredly, pulling the smaller woman into her body. She cups the back of Rachel's head, urging the resistant woman to lie on her shoulder. "Of course I love you," she murmurs.

Rachel pulls back to stare at her. "Am I not enough?"

"You're more than enough; you're a handful."

"Then why—"

"Rachel, she was dangling a raise in front of me. Again. I thought that since I told her the last time I wasn't going to go out with her in order to get it she would just give it to—"

"She asked you out on a date and you didn't tell me?"

"I told her no. Look…" she glances around the empty hallway. Then her gaze dips down to the puddle of water they're now both in. "Can we talk about this at home?"

"Will you tell me everything?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

She stands to help Rachel up off the floor. Her arms carefully hold Rachel by the waist. "Are you sure you're okay? And the baby? Do I need to call the doctor?"

"I'm fine. The baby's fine and no; you needn't call a doctor."

They quickly walk outside and Quinn fishes her keys from the pocket of her dress heading for the car. Rachel grabs her wrist, spinning the blonde around. "You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," she replies flatly.

"You're not sober either. And you need to give me the keys so I can drive."

"I think I'm capable of a twenty minute drive to our house, Rachel."

"Are you willing to risk three lives to prove that?" She regrets the words the instant they leave her mouth. Quinn's shoulders slump, her eyes finding the ground.

"Do you think I'm some kind of reckless alcoholic?" Quinn asks quietly.

It's a sore spot that's been there since she met the blonde. Quinn drinks socially, heavier when she was younger but has since calmed down a bit. But she recognizes the fact that her parents are alcoholics and to a lesser degree, her sister. Frannie had quit drinking for the most part when she got married and started having children. But she still enjoys a glass of wine every now and again. Quinn on the other hand, up until a few months ago, still went out with Santana and Brittany for drinks. Rachel joined occasionally when she didn't have rehearsals whatever night they went out, but even then she'd only order one martini and spend the rest of the night nursing a bottle of water or dancing with Quinn.

"No, baby," Rachel says softly. She walks over to the blonde, invading her personal space. "I don't think you're an alcoholic, you don't even drink as much as you used to." Her hand gently grasps the fist curled around the keys to the car. "But tonight you aren't sober. And it would be reckless of the both of us if I allowed you to drive home." Her thumb rubs soothing circles around the back of Quinn's hand and, like magic, the tightly curled fist slackens until the keys slide from her palm to Rachel's. They both say nothing, climbing into the car and riding home in silence.

* * *

><p>Quinn and Rachel avidly avoid each other's gazes as they get undressed from what had turning into a disastrous evening. Rachel pulls her dress over her head, harder than she intended to out of anger. It feels like college all over again. She feels like that same girl that's on the precipice of losing the most important person in her life. She replays how Wanda looked in her head over and over again. She was taller, pretty with ample breasts and she seemed intelligent but that could have just been the glasses. And with the pregnancy and all of her bodily changes, Rachel doesn't feel like she has enough of what it takes to keep the blonde at home.<p>

She turns around just as Quinn unzips her dress. It pools to the floor in front of her and Rachel instantly feels like a jerk. Quinn isn't with her because of her body. Quinn loves her for who she is. She shakes her head, walking over to the blonde as Quinn reaches into a drawer for a shirt. "I'm sorry," she chokes out.

The shirt is pulled over long blonde hair and Quinn's eyes lock on Rachel. "I'm sorry, too."

"I just don't understand. Why would you let her touch you?"

"She touched my arm, what, one time?"

"She wants you."

"Nobody cares what she wants, Rachel."

"I care because what she wants is mine."

"Well, then if I'm yours why do we have to have this argument?"

"Because I…" Her jaw tightens.

Quinn walks past her. She turns around to find the blonde sitting at the edge of the bed staring at her. "You looked beautiful tonight," Quinn says softly. "I'm sorry if I…whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"When did this start?" Rachel asks carefully. "When did she first express interest in you and why didn't you tell me?"

A pale hand runs through her hair in which Rachel has come to recognize as frustration. Not that she cares. If Quinn has the right to badger her about Jesse, she damn sure gets this right. Just the thought of that woman touching Quinn makes her stomach churn.

"A couple months ago."

"What happened?"

She shrugs. "Nothing." Her mind races as she tries to recall memories that are months old and too unimportant to remember. The alcohol thrumming quietly through her system doesn't help either. "She complimented my shirt. I told her you bought it."

Pride swells within Rachel's chest despite herself, glad to know her name was mentioned.

"She said she didn't know I had a wife so I showed my ring and told her I was married to you." Quinn looks up to meet Rachel's eyes. "She knew you instantly so I assumed she was a Broadway enthusiast. And then that was it. After she left San told me that Wanda was attracted to me but I didn't believe her. How was I supposed to know?"

Rachel snorts a little. Typical Quinn. "What woman—or man for that matter—wants to be _just friends_ with you?"

Despite the situation, Quinn smirks. "_You_ did. Or really, you wanted to have _nothing _to do with me until I convinced you otherwise."

Rachel ignores that little tidbit. "When did she ask you out?"

Quinn rubs her eyes tiredly, running her palms flat across her face. "She didn't really ask me _out_ out. She just offered me a raise and wanted to talk about it over drinks after work."

"You don't hold your liquor well."

"That's neither here nor there."

It was an important factor and they both knew it. "So, you turned her down," Rachel continues. "And?"

"And that's it. Can we go to bed now?"

"Are you attracted to her?"

She groans quietly. This isn't going to end well. She turns around on her hands and knees and tiredly crawls up the bed to snuggle beneath the covers. "I suggest you join me or you're going to be tired tomorrow," she tells Rachel.

She debates it for a minute. Her pride is telling her to see this to the end. How can anyone let something like this go? Someone else is attracted to _her_ wife and is quite obviously going after what she wants. Her very home is being threatened. All she's known for the past seven years has the potential to be taken from her. She won't allow it. She'll fight for what's hers whether her struggle is warranted or not.

She walks over to her side of the bed, sliding under the covers to face Quinn. "You never answered my question."

"Hmm, what was the question?" Quinn mumbles.

"Are you attracted to her?"

"Rachel, honey, can we not do this?"

"So it's okay for you to do it when you thought I was going to run off into the sunset with Jesse?"

Her eyes pop open to look at the woman less than a foot away from her. "That was different."

"It wasn't. Now, are you? She's very pretty."

"Then maybe you should go be with her."

"She's also your type."

"So are you."

Rachel's anger mounts as Quinn continues to brush her off. "This is serious."

Quinn sits up and scoots closer. She leans down until she's hovering over Rachel. "You want the truth?" she asks dangerously.

Rachel swallows thickly. Does she want the truth? She asked for it but now it just seems like something she wants to stay as far away from as possible. Her gaze drops, unable to hold the steady glare Quinn gives her. She nods imperceptibly.

She feels a soft exhale against her neck and her eyes snap shut. Hot tears spring to her eyes. She has no idea why this time. Stress? Too many emotions? Too many baby hormones? Probably all of the above.

"Wanda is pretty," Quinn says. Rachel's jaw trembles but Quinn dares to continue anyway. "If this was years ago and I wasn't with you, wasn't married and if I didn't have a baby on the way and she had offered me a raise? I probably would have gone out with her. I don't know if I would have slept with her but given how I am around alcohol that outcome isn't unlikely."

Tears fall through the slits of Rachel's tightly closed eyes. Quinn's heart clenches at the sight. Her hand reaches out to softly wipe against tan skin but Rachel turns further away. "This isn't years ago, Rachel," she says softly, firmly. "This is here, now. And right here, right now, I am happily married to someone that I think is even more beautiful than Wanda. Someone I'm _actually _attracted to. I'm not attracted to her."

She grasps a trembling shoulder, gently turning Rachel around to face her. Lying on her back, her arms instantly wrap around Rachel and bring her closer. They hold her tightly, securely as Rachel's hot tears splash against Quinn's neck. "I thought about it briefly," she admits. Rachel tenses in her arms but Quinn just squeezes tighter. "It was more money, Rachel. I want more money for us because you aren't working right now and no, I'm not blaming you because you can't work. I'm just saying that in order to keep this house we need more money. And she was offering it. But I knew better. I turned her down. And I came home to _you_ that night. Just like I come home to you every night. I'm not going anywhere," she promises. "I would never cheat on you and I'll never leave you. I told you, you're stuck with me."

"And you're –you're stuck with me," she hiccups through her tears.

"I better be," Quinn growls playfully. She allows Rachel to cry her tears out, softly rubbing her back. Rachel isn't even sure why she's crying anymore. Perhaps tears of frustration of having that Wanda person try to bait her wife all night. Tears of exhaustion. Either way she stays deeply buried in Quinn's neck until she's cried them all. She reaches out to grip Quinn's shirt tightly, anything for contact. Nimble fingers comb softly through her hair. She sighs as short, blunt nails lightly scratch against her scalp. Quinn had learned over the years that this was a sure fire way to get Rachel to calm her nerves. The brunette slackens in Quinn's hold, breathing evenly.

"I love you," Quinn tells her. "I'm in love with you, Rachel, and I'll always tell you that if you need me to. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

It's a candid moment. Moments that Quinn rarely shares. Rachel pulls back to look her in the eye. A soft hand cups her cheek, wiping residual tears away. "Quinn," she sighs softly. "I love you. I'll always love you."

The woman in question simply hums, her eyes roaming over Rachel's face. She looks so beautiful, so vulnerable. Quinn hates the fact that it takes stupid fighting and insecurities for Rachel to look like this but in the midst of everything, she can appreciate the beauty. "If I…" she trails off, biting her lip. "I know this sounds so incredibly childish but if I –if I asked you to quit your job, would you?"

Her right hand never falters as she rubs soothing circles along Rachel's back. Her eyes don't flash in surprise as they continue to map out eyebrows, puffy eyes, flushed cheeks, lips, and nose. Her left hand continues undeterred, wiping tears away. "I would."

Rachel says nothing else. She reaches to flick the light off on the headboard, slides her body so tightly against Quinn that air can't even keep the two apart, and falls asleep.


	9. The Delivery

**Title: **Unexpected Expectancies

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **"But for now, for now Rachel wants to carry the child. It's her biological clock that feels like a ticking time bomb ready to explode and if she isn't bearing a child soon she feels as if her nest will forever be empty."

**A/N 1: **This is mainly rated R because of the small birthing scene. It's not graphic by any means but I wanted an R rating as just a little red flag saying that a birthing scene is in fact in this chapter.

**A/N 2: **I want to take this time to give a huge THANK YOU to everyone that has read and reviewed this story. It truly does mean a lot that you all take the time to drop a line and say whatever's on your mind about the story. I've enjoyed writing and I hope you all have enjoyed reading. :)

* * *

><p><em>The Delivery<em>

Rachel is patient. Really, she is. For the most part. She's also trusting. When Quinn tells her that there is nothing going on with her and her boss then she believes her wife because she's never known the blonde to be a liar. And after being with a person for seven years, married for five, a certain level of trust and respect tends to develop that snowballs just as much as the love does. And Rachel has a lot of love for the blonde.

She had let it go. And for a month, she and Quinn continued on as they were, happily in love and expecting a baby. She's eight months and, in her opinion, big as a house. The bigger she gets the more Quinn can't seem to keep her hands away, though. The blonde constantly has her hands on Rachel in some way, whether stroking her womb, giving her back massages when Rachel's had a particularly rough day, or making love to her until neither of them can move.

She was sated. Blissfully so, in every sense of the word and she did everything in her power to ensure the blonde was just as satisfied. Everything was as it should have been.

Until this afternoon. While the blonde was at work Rachel busied herself around the kitchen, preparing a meal in advance for her wife until receiving a firm knock on the door. She had opened it, greeted the mailman just as she always does, collected the mail and closed the door. In the comfort of her home she scanned through the mail, separating hers and the blonde's when an interesting envelop caught her eye. It was addressed to the blonde from a Wanda M. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she opened it, read it, and saw red.

It was a love letter. A rather detailed one that shamelessly divulged Wanda's ever growing attraction to the blonde. Rachel read the entire letter multiple times, her heart twisting each time. She eventually balled it up and threw it away, wondering who does things like this? Who, in a position of power, would risk losing her job over an employee?

Deciding she wasn't going to play victim, Rachel promptly hopped in her car, driving to the blonde's job to once and for all end whatever relationship Quinn's boss was desperately trying to have with her.

"Greetings," she politely greets a tall man as she walks through the lobby at Quinn's job. "I'm looking for a woman named Quinn Berry-Fabray and a Wanda—" she pauses. "I didn't get a last name. But her last initial is M."

He looks down at her. "Quinn's office is the last door on the right." He gestures vaguely behind him and Rachel flashes a smile before walking past him. She squeezes the balled up letter Wanda had written tightly in her grasp, walking determinedly forward, head spinning with anger and frustration. She knocks on the door labeled Quinn Fabray before opening it and walking inside.

She instantly finds three pairs of eyes on her. Quinn at her desk, Santana in a seat in the corner of the room, filing her nails, and Wanda, in the middle of the room. Rachel bristles at the sight.

"Rachel." Quinn's the first to speak, voice sounding squeaky with surprise. "Hi, baby. Is there something—"

"You." Rachel points an accusatory finger towards Wanda. "I have been searching for you and the fact that you're in my wife's office is even better. I need to talk to you."

Quinn gulps loudly. Wanda's wide eyes dart between Rachel's and Quinn's. Santana's nail filing slows down as she focuses on the scene before her. This should be good. This should be really fucking good.

"Umm, Rachel—"

"Hush, Quinn."

Santana guffaws as Quinn's eyes widen.

"Ms. Berry, I'm not sure what the problem is, but—"

"That is the problem," Rachel says evenly. "The fact that you don't recognize the sanctity of marriage, _my_ marriage, is a big problem. Quinn is my wife. And no one will take her away from me."

Quinn bites her lip to keep her smile at bay. She's never known her wife to be so assertive with someone before. Not even that time when they were in college and Quinn was stupid drunk at that party.

Wanda steps forward. "I'm sure this is a misunderstanding—"

"The only misunderstanding is you thinking that for even one second my wife would throw away seven years of being with me for you. I know Quinn. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Do you know anything about her besides her outer physical beauty?"

Quinn gapes openly, her fiery eyes focusing intensely on her wife. Never has she seen Rachel so bold and confident outside of an audition or Broadway stage. She knows she should stop her but the passion in Rachel's eyes is something that can't be stifled at the moment. She keeps her lips sealed, knowing that all of this has been bubbling in Rachel for weeks.

"I need some popcorn for this," Santana says quietly to herself. Her eyes fly from Rachel to Wanda like a Ping-Pong match. "This hobbit is fierce."

"Rachel, allow me to explain—" Wanda says but is cut off.

"Do you know her favorite color?" Rachel asks suddenly. "Yellow. Do you know her favorite food? Bacon. Do you even know how she likes her bacon? Crispy but not too burnt. Do you know about that little spot on the small of her back that drives her wild?"

"Way to go, Berry!" Santana catcalls.

"Okay, that's enough," Quinn finally pipes up, red faced. "Santana, Wanda, I'd like some time with my wife."

"I'm not finished," Rachel insists. She unfolds the letter in her hand, smoothing it out to present to everyone, the closest thing to a sneer that Quinn's ever seen on her face. "Tell me, Wanda, how can one possibly misunderstand a detailed letter written to Quinn about how smitten you are with her?"

"What?" Quinn asks coldly. Suddenly, things are a little more serious than they previously were.

Wanda shivers at the angry tone of voice before turning to Quinn. "I don't know what she's talking about."

Her eyes harden. "Are you calling my wife a liar?"

"N-no, not at all."

"I have the letter right here, Quinn," Rachel says shrilly.

"Shit's getting real," Santana mutters from her seat. "Somebody's getting fired over this one."

"Let me see." Rachel walks over, bypassing Wanda to hand it to the blonde. Quinn looks to Wanda briefly before she reads the note. Rachel watches with an odd sense of satisfaction at the blonde's stony expression. Quinn looks back up a moment later. Her lips press tightly together as she crumples the letter once more.

She glares directly at Wanda until the brunette averts her gaze. "You remember that line between professionalism and sexual harassment I told you about? You just crossed it. Completely."

"Dumb bitch," Santana mumbles quietly.

"Please leave my office," Quinn says. Whether she's talking to Wanda, Santana or both, no one is really sure. Wanda keeps her mouth shut, preserving what little dignity she has left. She walks silently out the door and Santana follows, kicking up her heeled shoe and mock kicking her, as she, too, walks out the door.

Quinn quickly walks around her desk and wraps Rachel in a hug. "I hate that you had to read that," she murmurs into her hair. Rachel sighs quietly. She wraps her arms around the blonde just as tightly, her head resting on Quinn's shoulder.

"I do, too," she mumbles. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I guess I'll have to file a report." She had been hoping this whole thing with her boss would just blow over because the last thing she needs is work drama.

"You don't sound too happy."

"Didn't feel like going through all of this," she admits. Her hand lifts to gently comb through Rachel's hair. Her body tingles a little with excitement at Rachel's display earlier and how assertive and aggressive she was. She chuckles a little. "And did you really have to mention that spot on my back?"

Rachel giggles quietly. She flashes a sly smile in Quinn's direction as her hands slowly crawl down her spine.

"Don't," Quinn warns.

The command is ignored. Rachel's hand reaches her mid-back, digging slightly into a silk blouse and soft flesh. Quinn gasps. "Rachel, don't."

Ignored. Rachel's hands skate lower. Her fingertips flutter just above the blonde's ass and Quinn inhales deeply. Her entire body trembles as she arches into Rachel. "I told you not to do that," she rasps throatily.

"Oops." Rachel leans up to place a lingering kiss on the blonde's lips. "I'll leave you to your work." She smiles brightly. "I've cooked for you today."

"And you honestly think I'd cheat on a wife that cooks me food?" Quinn teases.

"Never," Rachel says sincerely.

"Good." She leans down to connect their lips one more time. "I'll see you when I get home," she whispers. "And we're good, right? No more Wanda problems?"

Rachel shakes her head, dark hair splashing to and fro. "No more problems."

"That's what I like to hear," Quinn purrs. She kisses Rachel a final time before pulling back. "I have to work at some point, baby."

Rachel pouts but relents, pulling back and holding onto the blonde's hand until the last possible second. "I'll let myself out," she tosses over her shoulder.

"And could you tell Santana to come back in?"

The door knob twists in her grip but she freezes. She feels wetness on her inner thigh. Her heart stops and she briefly wonders if she's lost control of her bodily functions. "Baby?" she squeaks.

"Yeah, Rach?"

A light trickle of _something_ begins to slide down her leg. "Quinn?" she cries.

The blonde looks up at the alarmed sound. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Rachel turns around. Quinn gasps audibly as the wetness continues to slide down Rachel's thighs and onto the carpeted floor. "M –my water…"

Quinn nods with owlishly wide eyes. "Definitely broken."

"What do we do?"

The shocked stupor finally wears off and Quinn stands from her seat, briskly walking toward Rachel. "Umm…well, we get you to the hospital, I suppose."

Rachel panics. "But it's not time yet. Our baby hasn't been incubated for the proper amount of time; it's too early!" she cries hysterically. "Quinn, she's too young. She hasn't matured enough for me to birth her yet; what if something goes horribly wrong?" At this point Wanda, Jesse, everything she and the blonde have been through over the past eight months seem so microscopic compared to what really matters—them and their daughter.

Warm palms graze the side of her face. Quinn leans in closer until they're centimeters apart. Her calm hazel eyes stare deeply into dark brown. Rachel catches a hint of anxiety in their depths and the knowledge that Quinn is just as on edge as she is oddly comforting. "Calm down," Quinn says quietly. "We can worry about all of this when we get to the hospital. But right now we actually need to _get_ to the hospital."

Rachel nods numbly as the blonde pulls away. Quinn rummages around her desk, grabbing her cell phone, keys and turning her computer off. She walks back over to Rachel and lightly grasps her elbow. "Come on."

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

Quinn bites her lip as they walk down the hallway and into the lobby. Rachel recognizes it for the uncertainty it is. "I'm sure she'll be fine," Quinn whispers as they continue walking.

"Hey, where you go—whoa, Berry, what the fuck happened to you?"

"My water –_fuck_!"

Quinn instantly stops them both in their tracks. Her eyes dart to the worried man behind the desk in the lobby before focusing on Rachel. "What's wrong?"

Rachel breathes deeply. Her hand brushes over her stomach as she takes several quicker breaths before offering the blonde a weak smile. "Contraction."

"Your first one?"

"Yes."

Quinn runs a hand through her hair. "This baby is definitely coming then?"

"Your stubbornness combined with my determination? This baby never stood a chance of being carried to full term."

The blonde laughs slightly despite the current situation.

"Wait, so you're seriously having this baby now?" Santana asks. "Bob, I'm out." She throws up a peace sign to the man behind the counter, flanking Rachel opposite Quinn and the two help the brunette out the door.

"B –but, Santana—"

"Gots to get my god-mother duties on!" she calls over her shoulder.

"Thank you, Santana," Rachel says as they walk through the parking lot.

"Don't mention it, Berry."

They walk toward a familiar Toyota Prius and Rachel pauses. "We're taking my car?"

"Well, we aren't taking _my_ car," Quinn replies. "You might ruin the upholstery."

"What a great wife you are," Rachel complains.

They quickly put Rachel in the car and Quinn runs around to the other side. "Are you coming?" she asks Santana.

Her best friend waves her off. "You go ahead. I gotta get B. Get Berry to the hospital as soon as you can; we'll be on the way."

"Hey, can you call everyone for me?" She doesn't wait for a response as she hops in the car and puts the key in the ignition. "Quinn, put your seatbelt on," she hears Rachel murmur beside her. It's on a second later and she turns to the brunette as she puts her car in drive. "You okay?"

Rachel rests her head against the seat, facing Quinn. Aside from everything going on around them, Quinn can't help but notice how beautiful she looks, how her skin is glowing. "I'm fine, really. Just a little nervous about Gabrielle."

She swallows thickly, turning ahead as she pulls out of the parking lot. Rachel says nothing more, leaving the blonde to her thoughts as she tends to her won. A million questions run through her head and she curses herself for not foreseeing and preparing for this moment. She wonders if the baby will make it, if _she_ will make it. If the choice came down to her or the baby, will she risk her own life? It stuns her completely when the answer is a resounding _yes_.

"Hey," Quinn calls softly.

She regroups and faces the blonde. She smiles dazzlingly. "Hmm?"

"Don't do that," she mutters.

"Do what?"

"Put on a show."

Her smile dims until it diminishes completely. "I'm nervous, Quinn."

A second later her hand is enveloped warmly. She looks down at the contrast of tan against pale skin, intertwining their fingers. "Me too," Quinn whispers.

The arrival to the hospital and checking in is a blur. Rachel sits tightly in a wheel chair while Quinn commands the floor. She orders everyone around from the woman at the check-in desk to the nurses in uniform. Nothing even seems real to Rachel until she's on her back in a bed, stirrups staring at her that she has yet to put her feet in. She turns to see Quinn's wary features.

Another blur passes as an IV is administered. Her whole life up until this point flashes through her mind. All of the decisions she's made to get her to this point. She looks to Quinn again, suddenly afraid. "Quinn, please come here."

The blonde grabs the chair she's sitting on and scoots it as close to Rachel's bed as it can possibly go. She's seated again, grasping Rachel's hand. "Better?"

Rachel nods, giving Quinn's hand a squeeze. She looks down at their joined hands, the thoughts and memories of how they both got to this point still flooding through her head. "Do you think we got married too early?"

Quinn looks visibly uncomfortable and Rachel reasons that's a reasonable reaction. "Why are you asking that?"

The grip on her hand slackens but Rachel just grasps Quinn's hand even tighter. "These past eight months have just sort of been an eye opener. The jealousy, the insecurities, I just wonder—"

"Do you want a divorce?" Quinn cuts in.

"No!"

"Then what…"

"I was merely wondering what you thought of our relationship." Her face knots in pain and Quinn is out of her seat in an instant.

"Another contraction?"

"Your child's a monster," she groans. She feels as if her entire womb pulses.

"Breathe, baby," Quinn soothes. She pushes Rachel's hair behind her ear and presses a kiss to her temple. "Just breathe. You'll be fine."

Rachel nods, whimpering as the worst of her contractions die down. "Dr. Steinberg said she'd be here in ten minutes, but to call her before if we need her."

"Do you need her? Do you think the baby's coming now?"

"I don't think so," she whimpers. Her forehead breaks out in a sweat. Quinn continues to dot kisses along the side of her face and she sighs quietly, sinking back into the bed. "Thank you."

"This is where I want to be," Quinn says softly. "I don't care how many problems we have. We've worked through them to together these past seven years, these past eight months, and we'll keep working through them together for the rest of our lives."

"Good, because—" Her body convulses as she feels another contraction. Quinn reaches discretely behind Rachel's head to press the button for a nurse. "Because it's been seven years."

"I know that."

"I'm not finished," she grits out. The door bursts open and two nurses walk in along with Dr. Steinberg. She eyes Rachel curiously. "What were you doing before your water broke?"

Rachel at least has the decency to look sheepish. "Giving Quinn's boss a piece of my mind."

Dr. Steinberg chuckles quietly. "That would explain why you're in here, then."

"I don't understand."

"Stress hormones. They must have skyrocketed while you were cursing Quinn's boss out and induced your labor earlier than any of us wanted."

Rachel bites her lip guiltily. If anything happens to the baby, will she be the one to blame?

Dr. Steinberg looks at the worry on her face. "Don't worry though. Your baby will be delivered today courtesy of myself," she chirps. "And I'm a damn good doctor." The nurses busy themselves around the room and Rachel breathes deeply in relief. Her eyes peel away to look at Quinn again to carry on their conversation. She feels as if she's going to faint with the million things happening at once.

"I love you," she whispers. "I love you and I love our family. You can't go anywhere."

"I'm not going—"

"And we're married. I proposed to you; you have to be with me." Quinn leans forward to kiss the senseless rambling away. She pulls back to look her in the eye.

"Look, Rachel. I know these last eight months have been more of a roller coaster than our entire relationship combined, but I'm still here and I'll always be here." Rachel opens her mouth to respond but Quinn shushes her. "Let's just have the baby, okay? I really want to see our girl."

Rachel nods as Dr. Steinberg approaches the pair. "The baby will be preterm, but only by a week," she states. "I'm thinking she's developed enough to be able to independently function, but we'll only be able to know for sure once we get her out. And even if she can't function and breathe on her own quite yet, we have plenty of resources to take care of her until she can."

Rachel takes a deep breath. "And me?" she asks shakily.

Dr. Steinberg winks. "You will be just fine, my dear."

Quinn releases a breath she didn't even know she was holding. Her hand tightens around Rachel and the brunette squeezes in return.

"I've got five centimeters already," Dr. Steinberg calls from between Rachel's legs. "Nice going, Rachel. Ready to get this show on the road, I see."

Rachel smiles. Quinn looks around. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Right now? You can help Rachel onto her side as I administer this epidural. Later on down the road? Just hold her hand. And no matter what she may scream at you, take it in stride."

Quinn nods, suddenly a little scared. She grasps Rachel gently, helping her over. The next thing Rachel feels is a sharp pinch and then nothing. And then more pain. Her legs are on the stirrups again and the only thing she can hear besides her own screaming and Quinn's shushing is Dr. Steinberg firmly telling her to push. "Push harder."

She does. .She pushes harder and then harder again. Quinn winces at her side at the vice like grip her hand is in but she soldiers through it. Rachel's eyes clench shut. Everything hurts and burns and this baby is literally _killing_ her.

"Push again."

Again, she does. A broken cry is torn through her and it grips Quinn's heart just as hard as Rachel's grip on her hand. The blonde isn't sure she can take this much longer. Rachel sounds so hurt and every instinct Quinn has is telling her to just make it better. The frustration of knowing that she can't makes her restless.

"Push."

"I _can't_," she wails.

Quinn's heart breaks. "You can, baby; you're stronger than that. Don't you want to see Gabby?"

She whimpers softly. "I do."

"Then push harder." Quinn reaches up to wipe the hair from her sweaty forehead. "Keep pushing so that we can see her and talk to her and see how beautiful she is. Don't you want to hold her?"

"I do."

"I see crowning," Dr. Steinberg announces. "Keep talking to her, Quinn. And Rachel? Keep pushing."

Relief flashes briefly across Rachel's face as she continues to push. Her entire pelvic region hurts and she has a right mind to sue whoever invented epidurals thinking they actually helped. "Quinn," she pants.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Go –go see what she looks like. What her head looks like." She pushes harder, wanting the motivation of having knowledge of what her daughter looks like to keep her going.

Quinn reluctantly lets to of her hand. She walks toward the edge of the bed, looking over Dr. Steinberg's shoulder. Her jaw drops in awe. Her stomach knots in sympathy for the pain Rachel must be in but the sight before her is nothing short of amazing.

"Fuck!"

"Keep pushing, Rachel," Dr. Steinberg coaches.

"What does she look like?" Rachel whines.

"Brown hair," Quinn says in awe. "Rachel, she has brown hair that I'll go to the grave swearing it's from you and not Jesse."

Rachel laughs breathlessly. "With all the work I'm doing, _I'll_ go to the grave saying it's from me."

Quinn walks back to the side of the bed. She scoops Rachel's hand in her own, unable to help peppering a few kisses along her face. "I'm so proud of you."

Rachel bites her lip, a particularly hard push shooting pain through her. If she opens her mouth she has no idea what will come out.

"Keep pushing."

"I'm doing the best I can!"

"Baby, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" She sits up in a surge of energy. Quinn's hand flies to her back to support her. "None of you know what I'm going through!"

"We're getting past shoulders," Dr. Steinberg calls, completely unaffected by Rachel's ranting. Almost every pregnant woman she had dealt with was the same. Nervous when they come in, scared right before delivery, and complete terrors during the birthing process. "Keep pushing."

"Shut up," Rachel cries. "I just want everyone to shut up."

Quinn looks mildly offended but otherwise does as asked. She pushes Rachel's hair back every few seconds, having stopped kissing her when Rachel would complain and turn away. "It hurts, Quinn."

"I know, Rach." She rubs soothing circles along the back of Rachel's neck. "Just a little more, baby. You can do it."

"One more push, Rachel. Give it all you've got."

Rachel jerks back into the bed. Her eyes squeeze shut tightly as her back arches. Her cracked voice releases a pained wail as she pushes for all she's worth. Everything burns for what feels like an eternity. A second later she slumps back against the bed. She hears a weak, high pitched cry and she smiles. Tears prick her eyes and a watery laugh escapes her lips. She opens weary eyes to finally look at her daughter.

Quinn has on a hair cap, and a gown, cradling the baby in her arms and Rachel has never been more in love. She watches Quinn carefully cut the fussy baby's umbilical cord. She smiles briefly at Rachel before handing the baby to Dr. Steinberg. "I know you're dying to hold her," the doctor says. "Just give us a few minutes to check her vitals, breathing and all that good stuff and if she can handle it, I'll give her to you."

Rachel just nods, throat incredibly dry and raw.

"Can you get her some orange juice?" Quinn asks a nurse.

Dr. Steinberg walks out with the baby in her arms and takes two hearts with her.

"Rachel, she's so beautiful." Quinn walks over to the prone brunette and kisses her thoroughly. Rachel lets the blonde lead the kiss, entirely too tired to do anything else. Quinn pulls back. She kisses Rachel's cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, and finally her forehead. "I love you. I love you. I love you," she mumbles.

"I love you, too," Rachel rasps.

The nurse comes in with her juice and the doctor is back a few minutes later. Gabrielle is wrapped snuggly in a hospital issued blanket. Her pale skin and brown hair, just a shade lighter than Rachel or Jesse's is the first thing Rachel sees before her daughter is placed right in her arms. Rachel stares down at the tiny baby in awe. Creamy skin like Quinn, short, choppy brown hair, a tiny nose, balled up lips, and—she smiles with a quiet giggle—big ears.

Gabrielle moves jerkily. Her tiny hand not encased in the blanket clenches into a fist. "Oh, is my laughter disturbing you?" Rachel murmurs teasingly.

Quinn leans over the pair. "She's perfect," she whispers.

Rachel hums in agreement, leaning forward to press a tender kiss against her daughter's head. "I don't regret anything," she says. "Not one moment."

"Neither do I."

She looks up into those hazel eyes she fell in love with so long ago. There's a smile on the blonde's face. It isn't a smirk, none of her mischievous smiles. It's genuine. Genuine affection and happiness and Rachel can't help the answering smile she returns. "I wonder what our parents are going to say."

"Well, I'm sure as soon as I call Leroy and Hiram, they'll be on the highway five minutes later."

"We have to tell everyone."

"Later," Quinn says. She looks down at the two most important people in her life. "I want to stay like this for a little while longer."

Gabrielle jerks again and both sets of eyes lock in on her. She squirms in Rachel's arms and her face scrunches up. "I think she's about to cry," Rachel whispers.

"I wonder what's wrong."

"I don't think she likes it when we talk while she's trying to sleep."

"Ah, a high maintenance diva," Quinn says knowingly. "It's going to be hell living with two of those."

"Quinn," Rachel hisses. "I am not a diva." Then belatedly, "And no cursing in front of the baby."

Gabrielle's lids slowly rise, revealing the biggest pair of eyes Rachel and Quinn have ever seen. Rachel instantly melts. Quinn leans in closer. "Blue? I wasn't expecting that." She grins down at her daughter, waving her hand in greeting. Her breath hitches as a tiny, uncoordinated arm reaches up and a fist latches onto her index finger. "This baby…" is all she says.

Rachel smiles fondly at the blonde. "I think her eyes are going to get darker within the next few days. I don't know what the final color will be but I'd bet money on hazel."

"Rachel…"

The emotion behind the blonde's voice tells the brunette all she needs to know. She leans over to place a kiss against Quinn's cheek. "I know, baby," she whispers. "I love you, too. And our family."

They sit there in solitude for as long as they can, all three of them learning each other. Gabrielle's hand latches onto Quinn's hair at one point and Rachel laughs uncontrollably, grabbing a golden lock as well and tugging until Quinn's face is smothered into the baby's stomach. She looks up into those big eyes and in that moment, both parents would swear they saw her smile.

Sometime later an obnoxious pounding is heard on the other side of the door. Quinn hears something about Lima Adjacent and races to the door to open it up for best friend. Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, and Kurt file into the room one by one, Jesse bringing up the rear. They all gawk and stare and fuss over the baby, each one taking her and having their turn to see her.

"She'll love me and Britts more than she'll love any of you, including her parents."

"How did the baby get blue eyes? Am I a mother, too?"

"No, Britt."

"Kurt, we need to go to Baby Gap and splurge!"

"_And_ I can get us a discount. The cute guy behind the counter's been eyeing me for a while."

"You shop at Baby Gap, Jack McFarland?"

"Can I hold her?"

That stops all conversation in the room. Quinn turns, baby in her arms, to find Jesse in a small corner of the room. She takes a deep breath because this is her moment to finally prove to Rachel, her daughter, and herself that she can do this. She slowly walks over to Jesse and he stands to meet her. Their eyes lock, a subtle warning is issued and received but with a hint of trust, Quinn carefully places Gabrielle into his arms. She watches the awestruck look on his face and smiles a little, knowing that's how she looked when she first held her.

"She hardly weighs anything," he murmurs.

"Six pounds, two ounces," Quinn says.

"She's a week preterm," Rachel adds.

He continues to marvel at the little girl in his arms and Quinn is surprised to note that she doesn't feel an ounce of jealousy. She feels protective but she reasons that's because he's holding her daughter.

"How bad did it hurt, Berry?" Santana asks.

"It was dreadfully painful, Santana. Imagine passing a watermelon through the size of something that you can hardly stretch with three fingers."

The mood in the room turns from somber and loving to uncomfortable in an instant. Santana surveys everyone's face with a snort. "That tight, hmm?" she prods further.

Quinn flushes and turns back around to face everyone. "The point is; it was painful. That's all you need to know," she says pointedly, glaring at Santana. Santana smirks but raises her hands in mock surrender. She can at least cut her best friend a break. If only for one day.

The sound of the baby sniffling catches both mothers' attention. Rachel is halfway out of the bed, before Kurt and Mercedes gently push her back down and Quinn whips back around to find Jesse. Blue eyes stare back up at her as Gabrielle's arms fret to and fro. She quickly scoops the crying baby in her arms without a second thought.

"That baby is gonna have Q wrapped around her little fingers," Santana says.

Brittany smiles. "She already does."

Quinn swallows thickly as she walks back over to Rachel. "I don't know what's wrong," she admits.

Rachel looks down at her daughter's face pinched in worry. She specifically looks at her lips and the suckling shape they've taken on. "I think she's hungry."

"Oh. Uh…" Hazel eyes scan everyone in the room. "Sorry, guys, but I think Gabby is hungry. Rachel's about to feed, so could you all wait outside?"

There's some grumbling, but everyone slowly files back out of the room. "Jesse?" Rachel calls.

He turns back around, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Yes, Rachel?" Quinn bites her lip.

"I just wanted to say thank you for everything. I know this is only the beginning, but I wanted to thank you for even agreeing to this."

He nods with a small smile. "What are friends for?"

Rachel echoes the smile. "And would you please track down a nurse for me. I'm a little uncertain about the breast feeding process."

"Sure. You guys take care." He's out the door a moment later.

Rachel turns to the blonde who's seemingly lost in her own thoughts. She brings a hand up to gently cup her cheek. "Hey, come back to me."

Quinn snaps out of whatever thoughts she had to look down at Rachel. "Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

She turns to gently nuzzle the warm palm on her face, pressing a kiss there. "I have a beautiful wife, a fussy baby, and great friends. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

Rachel smiles brilliantly. "I have all of the same things and I'm the happiest I've ever been."

"Me too," Quinn murmurs. She presses a kiss to Rachel's forehead and they spend the rest of their time before the nurse comes practicing techniques on how to quiet the fussy baby. Rachel sings _You'll Be in My Heart _while Quinn does backup vocals. Gabrielle looks on confusedly until her hands swing and she begins to gurgle animatedly as if trying to sing along. Rachel and Quinn smile down at their daughter, already seeing the bright future she has ahead of her.

_The End_


End file.
